


The Empathetic Piper

by GaoRyuki



Series: Tales from Ryuki's Arrowverse [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Arrowverse - Fandom, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Affection, Anal, Consent, Explicit Language, Gore, Gun play, Guns, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Motorcycles, Multiple Orgasms, Outdoor Sex, Possessiveness, Public Display of Affection, Rough Sex, Runaway, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Teasing, dead children, minor gun kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-24 17:36:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14959055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaoRyuki/pseuds/GaoRyuki
Summary: Hartley Rathaway is in Star City taking care of the family properties that he inherited upon the death of his parents.  He meets some friendly faces (or maybe not so friendly), and reunites with an old friend whom he meets for the first time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This Side Story runs parallel with chapter five of the main story "A Tale of Two Young Kids in Central City". Reading the first four chapters is best for seeing the bigger picture, but not overly necessary. There will be a summary in chapter six of the events in this side story, plus events here will lead into a continuing storyline for Hartley.
> 
> I took the liberty of mixing up Hartley's backstory a bit, taking a bit from both the comics and the CW Arrowverse, and adding in some extras of my own. He was never meant to be an exact portrayal from comics and tv but I did keep in some key traits. I will mention that some new key abilities spawned from one of my favourite book series.
> 
> I hope this unique spin on our beloved Piper will entertain readers.

\-- The Empathetic Piper --

LOCATION -- Star City

Key panel on an otherwise empty wall. Staring at it for a few moments, our dark-haired music meister leans in close, studying the keys. Gently blowing on the keys, his perceptive eyes sees which keys have been used the most. Flexing his fingers, he taps in four numbers. The panel lights up red. He smiles in recognition of the very faint different notes the key presses make. Again, he taps four keys in ascending order on the scale. The panel lights up green, the wall slides open to reveal an elevator. Whistling merrily, he enters, presses the button for the lowest floor, and waves at the camera as the door closes. 

The elevator deposits him directly into the bunker. Casually walking in, he wanders around looking at everything, pocketing a few small daggers, couple of arrowheads, some odds and ends. He sees an empty duffel bag and grabs that as well, filling it with his findings and even more items. 

Turning, he aims for the central computers, only to be stopped by a tall guy clad in green leather, arms crossed, eyes glowering. 

"Hey, Oliver. How's it going? Has anyone ever told you how stunning you look in green? Especially that leather, bet it's comfortable if your exceptional _attributes_ have anything to say about it." He pats him on the arm as he slips by in favour of the computers. 

Humming along the way, he sets the duffel bag down and grabs a chair, promptly tackling the keyboard, not even noticing the Green Arrow's bewildered look. 

  


"Holy crap! Wha .. what are you doing here? How'd you get in here anyway?" Felicity Smoak, who was busy at her own terminal, had only just turned around, noticing the newcomer. Peering closely, "You're Hartley. From Central City. What are you doing here?" Turning, she presses some keys and pulls up Hartley Rathaway's file. 

"Hartley Rathaway, Central City. Rich folks, died a few years ago, accused for their murder. Broke out of Iron Heights after six months. Haven't been seen again in two years." Turning back around, she continues. "May 2018, seen again breaking into the Arrowcave, intentions unknown aside from theft." She gives him her famous Felicity-stare, as if he's a puzzle waiting to be solved. Felicity do love a good puzzle. 

"Hmm? You say something?" Hartley looks up from his screen. 

"Unbelievable!" Exasperated, Felicity turns back to her own screen, Hartley does the same, glancing at his notebook. He doesn't notice Oliver hovering above him, smoldering. 

  


After a few minutes of pulling up various building schematics, and marking down exact locations in his notebook, Hartley answers Felicity's questions. 

"First up, I commend you on actually having a key panel and hidden elevator. That's way more security than STAR Labs. I have perfect pitch, so it was easy to figure out the keypad." Hartley focuses on a building that's close to PalmerTech. Hmm ... wasn't there some sort of connection between Ray, the data cards, and PalmerTech? He makes a note to check the nearby building first. The others seem to be scattered all over Star City, nowhere near close to one another. 

"As for why I'm here, needed to access the computers. Haven't been in Starling in years so needed to track down some buildings." Finishing his notes, he pockets the notepad and spins around facing Oliver and Felicity. 

"Have you ever thought about, oh, I don't know, knocking on the door? Asking? Maybe call ahead?" Felicity has her arms folded much like Oliver. 

"Hmm, didn't have your number. By the time I even thought about it, I was already on the outskirts. Too late to head back to STAR Labs and pull up your info. Figure it'd be easier just to pop in." 

Standing up, he shoulders his new duffel bag. "Well, thanks for everything. See you around!" He slips past Oliver and suddenly found himself pulled back, landing on the floor with a thud. "Ow, what did you do that for?" He starts to get up but Oliver presses him back down with his boot. 

"Oliver! Not that I don't disagree in this case but you need to stop hurting every random person that walks in here." Felicity remains seating. 

Ignoring her, Oliver growls out a question, "Why are you really here? What're those buildings?" Pressing harder, Hartley lets out a gasp, trying to catch his breath. 

After a couple minutes, Felicity roars at Oliver. "Oliver, enough. He can barely breathe." 

Still smoldering, Oliver presses down even more, and with a final shove, releases Hartley, leaving his gasping for air. 

"Whew, those are damn good boots, Oliver. I prefer the ankle high ones but if I can get a pair that's the same quality as yours, I'd be mighty peachy indeed." Hartley rolls up a pant leg to reveal dark green ankle boots. "See? These are old now, getting full of holes, they're a hassle when it rains." 

Sighing, Oliver pulls Hartley up and shoves him into the chair, Felicity giggling. Oliver shoots her a look. 

"Hartley, I don't know why you're here, but you can't just wander in like you own the place." 

Hartley glances up at Oliver, not in the least bothered by his glowering look. "Oh, I know I don't own the Arrowcave ... " 

"Bunker, please." 

" ... but aside from the key panel, your security system is a perfect match to that at STAR Labs. How you manage to keep anyone out is beyond me." 

Hartley notices Felicity's blush. "Ah, well, y'see ... umm ... " 

"Honestly. Look, I'm here for a few days tending to the affairs of my parents. I can hook you up with a temporary security system. I'm working on a shielding type security system for my main apartment building in Central. Once I can get that functioning perfectly, I'll get one set up here." 

"Your parents?" Felicity inquires. 

Sighs, may as well tell them or we'll be sitting here playing 101 questions all day. 

"Yeah. I was accused of their murder but they eventually caught the real killer. I just got back to Central City last week and got caught up in the legal affairs for their estate. Taxes, land, buildings, old bills, etc. They owned various properties throughout Central, Starling, and Keystone. I already got the properties taken care of in Central, sold majority, kept the house for now, and one apartment building near STAR Labs. Now I'm doing the same here in Star City. Seven buildings to check out, see if I want to keep any of them. Apparently, majority are old and run down, seems my folks didn't know about most of them. They probably date back to my grandad's or great grandad's time." 

"Fine, I'm coming with you." Oliver says with determination. 

"Uh, not that I don't appreciate the help and all, but don't you have your own vigilante duties to attend to?" 

"I keep my city safe. Making sure you're not roaming around causing trouble, is part of keeping my city safe. Let's go." Oliver turns toward the elevator. 

"Uh, sure." Hartley scrambles to his feet. 

"Leave the bag, it'll only slow us down." Oliver says without turning around. 

"Right." Hartley pockets a couple of daggers into the inside of his dark green trench coat. 

"Here." Felicity tosses an earpiece at him, which he promptly inserts. "Be safe. There's been some odd activity around PalmerTech lately." 

Hartley nods and follows Oliver. 

\----------------------------------------------

Ten minutes of silent walking later, Hartley constantly looking around, Oliver only looking straight ahead, they find themselves standing outside the abandoned two-floor building, a block away from PalmerTech. 

Breaking the silence, Hartley asks, "So, why the green?" 

"Helps blend in with the trees." Oliver is inspecting the door. 

"Hmm," Hartley gazes around at all the pavement, concrete walls, and stone buildings. He spots a lone tree halfway down the block. "Like that one?" 

Oliver says nothing, opening the door. Casting a wary glance at PalmerTech looming over them, he enters silently, alert for any sounds. Hartley follows. 

The building looks to be an old pawn shop, dated at least 75 years. A smashed in, glass counter sits along one wall, some smaller counters spread around. Broken crates, old newspapers, and lots of dust. Hartley coughs, covering his mouth. Lovely smell, also. 

Oliver heads for the stairs in the back, leading upwards. 

At the top of the stairs, Hartley sees old mattresses full of holes, and bugs. In the corner is an overfilled garbage bin, mostly food containers and paper bags. Someone had been squatting here, but it looks like whoever it was hasn't been back in quite some time. 

Not finding anything of interest, he follows Oliver downstairs, and again down to the basement. He bumps into his leather back and hears the archer's sharp intake of breath. Peering over his shoulder, Hartley nearly turned and hurled. 

Four bodies, bloodied and scarred, near naked. All kids. Cause of death is likely beatings, based on the slashes and being chained to the wall. Averting his gaze, he turns his head to see Oliver approaching the far wall, running a gloved hand over it. Some dirt fell away. 

"Is that ... " 

"Tunnel. Felicity?" 

Over the comm, Felicity's voice rang out. "Tunnel, tunnel. Not in the blueprints but based on the location, the only possible destinations it could lead to are the Big Belly Burger halfway up the block, and a bit further ... " 

"PalmerTech," Oliver supplies. He attached a gadget to the wall and pressed a button. It lights up green. 

"Great, give me a second, I should be able to see a reading ... here we go. Looks like the opening is about two feet deep then the tunnel begins. Based on the trajectory of the sonar, it bypasses Big Belly Burger completely. Guess they weren't hungry." 

"Felicity ... " Oliver sighs. 

"Right, right. Let's see. Pulling up PalmerTech and the sonar ends just under the South-West wing ... what was down there, hmm," a few seconds of silence. "Servers. Network servers group 1. There's a set of network servers in each of the four corners. Each set has different information on them so if anyone were to tap the computers for its secrets, they wouldn't be able to read the information unless they had a complete set, and even at that, the data cards can only be inserted in a very specific order. Otherwise, pop in card 3 first, the data is rendered useless. Tap the computers in the proper order, insert and read the cards in the proper order, you now hold all the secrets of PalmerTech." 

Hartley releases the held breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Oliver glances at him sharply. 

Hartley shrugs and aims for the stairs, not wanting to be inside the building any longer. He barely registers Oliver following closely behind, as he climbs the stairs, and exits the building, hurling as soon as he got outside. 

Once Oliver got off the cell phone, Hartley felt his hand on his back, patting him. Hartley straightened, wiping his mouth with a cloth from his pocket. 

"Thanks. Not often I get to see ... see ... " he couldn't even finish, the scene was just too horrible. 

Oliver nods in understanding. "SCPD will be here soon, take them away, figure out who they were. Since you own the building, they'll want to talk to you. Considering the situation, we can leave and I can get Quentin ... Captain Lance to come over to talk with you later." 

Hartley could only nod his thanks as he heard sirens in the distance. Oliver leaves a note on the door for them to check downstairs. He doesn't sign it. 

"Let's go." 

Hartley follows Oliver down the block and into a side alley to exit out on the opposite street. 

Fifteen minutes later, they found themselves sitting on a bench facing PalmerTech, the only bench where the streetlight above it was burnt out, leaving them in relative darkness. 

"So, why the green?" Oliver asks. 

Hartley, amused by being asked the same question, lets out a small laugh. Anything to get his mind off of ... that, back there. "Matches my eyes, plus it helps me move around at night undetected. I have some sensor scramblers embedded into the lining. Plus, I love the pockets within. Nice and deep, sturdy. Rainproof too." He gazes sadly at his boots. "Except for the boots of course. I seriously need a new pair. Nothing worse than going home with soaking wet socks." 

Oliver lets out a smile, a rare one, first one of the night. The kid is growing on him. 

The night was still young, not even midnight, yet there still seemed to be some activity over at PalmerTech. 

With a start, Hartley's head snapped up, and tilted, as if listening. Oliver waits patiently and follows his gaze to an ARGUS truck along the side. Getting to his feet, under cover of darkness, he glides over towards the truck, Hartley following silently behind. 

Hiding behind a tree, he watches as two men are loading boxes onto the truck. He didn't recognize them. "Felicity?" he whispers. 

"Searching the ARGUS database, they're not listed. Hmm, interesting. They had a truck stolen two weeks ago." 

Intending to get some answers, Oliver nocks an arrow and aims for the leg of the closest guy. Before he could release the arrow, a loud bang appeared directly behind him, a bullet thunking into the tree. Whirling, he sees another guy standing over Hartley, watches as the stranger falls forward. The bullet went right through him, entering from the back. He glances up and sees nobody. He hears the two men at the truck babbling, not English. Seething at the missed opportunity to gather intel, he gathers up Hartley, barely noticing the bloody dagger pulling out of the body and dashes off. 

\----------------------------------------------

Back at the bunker, Hartley sits back with a damp cloth over his eyes. Not exactly how he expected the evening to go. The dead bodies, followed by that guy that snuck up on him. Fuming, he couldn't believe he let anyone sneak up on him. He must have been feeling out of it from the tour of the building, he reasons with himself. He lets out a sigh. Also, who was the sniper that saved his life? 

"Don't worry about it." Oliver stated, back in civilian clothes. "You're alive, we both are. Felicity has a message sent out to Lyla, head of ARGUS. I'm going to gather up some people to help gather intel on PalmerTech, find out what the hell is going on over there." Oliver raises an eyebrow. "Unless you know something?" 

Hartley groans, removing the cloth, straightening up in the chair. Rubbing his eyes, he sighs. 

"A few days ago, someone mind-controlled Ray and sent him over here to retrieve some documents. He doesn't remember any of it but he had subconsciously created two sets of the datacards. We have one set, no idea who has the other." 

"Who's we?" Oliver asks. 

"Me, Snart, Kit." 

Leonard Snart? He heard he was back, somehow, but no idea the details. Found on another Earth he heard. Supergirl's Earth. Interesting. "Who's Kit?" 

"Friend of ours, from years back when we were kids. Before Len became a cold-hearted bastard." 

"Ah," Oliver gained a glimpse of an idea as to what had happened to Snart all those years ago. 

Hartley continues, "Before I came here, I found Ray in a hidden room at STAR Labs ... " 

"Time Vault," Oliver supplies. 

"No, a different one. He came out of the Time Vault and entered another hidden door. I honestly didn't know there were more hidden rooms." 

"Interesting," Oliver says curiously. 

"I followed Ray, he didn't even know I was walking with him. I watched as he inserted his tablet into the terminal and typed rapidly. It was so fast I couldn't follow along, so I had him slow down and on the screen were the coding required to create an explosive device that would activate only by his special unique atoms." 

"Like the Atom Tech of his suit? Thought he was powered by Dwarf Star." 

"From what I heard, he managed to use Dwarf Star in combination with his DNA to create something new. Apparently, you can't buy Dwarf Star at the corner store." 

"Makes sense. He is a scientist. If anyone can prolong the use of his Atom suit, and make it better, even changing to something else, he can. So, someone brainwashed him to gather the information and is using his technology to build a bomb. Did you see how big?" 

Hartley glances down, replies quietly. "Enough to wipe Central City from the map." 

Oliver seethes. If more than one is made, many more cities can expect the same fate. 

"Is Ray still ..." 

Hartley shakes his head. "Not when I left him. I was able to interrupt the frequency, bringing him back to his senses. No telling when he'll get brainwashed again, if he does." 

Oliver nods, then stands up. "Time to call it a night. You got a place to stay?" 

Hartley hadn't thought of that. "Uh ... " 

"Sleeping area back there," Oliver gestures. "Should be some clean sheets next to the bed." He heads off for the elevators. 

"Thanks," Hartley replies quietly, gazing around. 

"No more looting, your bag is full enough." The elevator door slides closed. 

Hartley snickers, turning his gaze back to the computers. He thought about researching more of PalmerTech, and that mystery sniper, but a headache looms, forcing him to seek out the sleeping area instead. Within minutes, he had the bed made and flopped down upon it, sleep taking over. 

\----------------------------------------------

That night, a writhing body drenches the sheets in sweat, as a nightmare cling tightly. 

_A black-clad figure with a helmet covering his face lurks in the darkness, watching as two males in green hid behind a tree, watching his comrades. When the one with the bow made his move, he makes his own, approaching the smaller one from behind, reaching for the gun in his pocket. Gripping the gun, he starts to pull his hand out. Eyes flashed wide as the one before him suddenly turned, whipping out a dagger from who-knows-where, at the same time he heard a bang and his heart exploded. He never felt the dagger stabbing into his gut._

 _The smaller, dark-haired guy grips the bloody dagger, seething, digging it deeper, wanting so desperately to carve out every intestine from the one who dared sneak up on him. He doesn't feel the strong arms wrapping tightly around him nor the dash away from the scene. In his mind, all he could see were those dead bodies, and the one that fell upon him, bloodied from his dagger. So much blood. And that gun ... that sniper ... he whips around to see, (no, feel), a barrel press into his forehead. No words, just a silent laugh, a smirk, the finger pressing more on the trigger . . ._

"Argh!" 

Gasping, sitting straight up, he bangs his head on the side of the bed above him. Wincing, he finds himself on the floor, tangled up in the blanket. 

Just a dream, only a dream, get a hold of yourself, Hart. Taking a few deep breaths, he stands up, a bit wobbly, bracing himself on the bed. He wanders off in search of the washroom. There has to be one down here, right? 

A few minutes of searching, he finds it and gloriously runs the cool water over his head. His mind begins to clear, and he puzzles. 

Who were those guys with the stolen ARGUS truck? Who was the one that snuck up on him and Oliver? It's near impossible to sneak up on the Piper with his enhanced hearing. He remembers feeling so startled, he reached for the dagger without thinking. In hindsight, he wonders if the dagger was even needed, but he was grateful to have had it. Who was that sniper that disappeared? From the angle of the bullet, thunking low into the tree near Oliver's waist, the sniper must have been higher up. 

Straightening up, Hartley lets the water drip, a towel the farthest thing from his mind. He heads out, glancing up at the clock, only 5:30 in the morning. 

Sitting down at a terminal, he pulls up a map of the area surrounding PalmerTech, quickly locating the tree they were hiding behind. Smiling, he now understands why Oliver wears green. Those goons hadn't even noticed them until the gunshot ... the gunshot from the mystery sniper who saved his life. He could have been killed. Nearly was. 

Shaking his head, he focuses on the buildings in the area. Calculating the angle and direction the bullet came from, Hartley deduced that it came from the roof of Stone's Hardware shop. 

With that information firmly in his mind, he heads back to the sleeping area for his clothes, pulling on his jacket as he aimed for the elevator. 

\----------------------------------------------

Twenty minutes later, a lone figure lays low atop the Starlight Spirits, a fancy tavern, near PalmerTech. A rifle sits steadily in a stand, an eye peering through the magnified eyepiece, as he watches another truck, undescript, load up with crates. Slowly guiding the rifle to the left, he watches two guys in a heated argument, one flailing his arms holding papers. He wasn't close enough to hear what they were saying. Even if he were, doubtful they'd be speaking English, like the guys from earlier tonight. 

Continuing to the left, he sees the tree he launched a bullet into. The ARGUS truck is long gone. He smiles at the memory of startling the almighty Green Arrow. He barely ducked away in time, not wanting to be caught. Although, it's possible the smaller guy caught a glimpse when he turned around so quickly. 

Who was he? Wearing a dark green trench coat, hood wasn't even pulled up. Never seen him in Star City before. Maybe a new trainee of Oliver's. Still, there's something about this guy, something familiar. Most likely someone in passing, seen on the news, a random face in the crowd. 

After a few moments of pondering, he continues scanning to the left, and up a bit, wanting to take a look at where he stood a few short hours ago. 

Startled, he puts his eye back to the eyepiece, not believing what he was seeing. The guy in the green coat stood there, hood still down, as he slowly walks around the area. From this distance, he could see the short dark hair that flowed lightly in the breeze. He watches a few minutes as the other bent down examining different areas of the rooftop. On the third time straightening up, something metal is seen in his fingers as the item glinted in the streetlight. 

Shit. In his haste to duck away, he forgot about the empty shell. He watches the guy pocket the shell and turn around, in his direction. He holds his breath, not moving. There's too much distance, he wouldn't be able to see him over here. Eyes can't be that good. 

What felt like minutes were actually only seconds, heart pounding in his ears, the guy in green turned away and disappeared from sight. 

Pulling back, he wipes a hand over his sweaty forehead. Deciding to call it a night, he packs up and heads off to his safehouse, softly growling as the guy in green dominates his vision. 

\----------------------------------------------

"Hartley? You there?" 

Sitting at SC Jitter's, sipping green tea, he flips through some pages on his tablet, one he kinda borrowed from the Arrowcave. The voice startled him as it came from directly in his ear. 

"I know you're there, Hartley, the comm device has an excellent tracker." 

The comm. Had he even taken it out last night? Or maybe he inserted the earpiece absentmindedly when he left this morning. 

Speaking softly so the other customers wouldn't hear, he replies. "Yeah, I'm here, Felicity. You need something?" 

"Oh good, you're alive. When you weren't answering I thought maybe when you snuck out again last night you might have done something stupid like poking your nose around PalmerTech, getting shot at, possibly ... " 

"Felicity!" That growly voice had to be Oliver's. Is he always that pissy sounding? 

"Oh right, yes, well, it's good you're okay. You are okay, right?" 

Rubbing his eyes, he sighs, a hint of a smile at her concern. "Yeah, I'm fine. Couldn't sleep so went for a walk. The cool air is refreshing before dawn." 

"You're at the Jitter's near one of your buildings." Oliver piped in. "I'll be right over." 

"Uh, no that's okay. I can take care of this one myself." Hartley stammered, not wanting Oliver to pull double-duty as the Green Arrow. It's more than enough he patrols the city at night, he'll wear himself out if he patrols in the daytime as well. Besides, he couldn't have gotten much more sleep than Hartley, right? 

"He's already gone. Before I forget, once you boys are done scoping out the place, can you bring back some caffeine?" 

Hartley listens, tapping the order into his tablet, amused at how he went from breaking into the Arrowcave to being a coffee delivery guy in a span of under ten hours. Finishing his tea, he pockets the tablet and heads out. 

Oliver had just arrived when Hartley came up. In civilian clothes this time, Oliver stashes his helmet into the bike's compartment beneath the seat. 

"No green today, Ollie?" 

"See any trees?" 

Hartley looks around. Not a single tree could be seen, although ... he gestures, "There's a flower hanging basket in front of that shop over there." 

Is that? Hartley's eyes grew wide as the ghost of a smile quickly disappeared. So, Oliver Queen really does have a sense of humour. He grins at that. 

"You coming?" Oliver looks back over his shoulder as he takes point at the door. 

"Oh, right," snapping back to the task at hand, Hartley approaches with a key. Inserting it, he realizes the door was unlocked. "Huh ... " 

Oliver pushes past him, immediately assessing the room they entered into. 

Another two-story building, looks like some sort of small office building. A few desks and chairs lined the walls, a reception area near the front. Doesn't seem to be as much dust as the other place, probably hasn't been abandoned as long. 

Hartley heads behind the counter, sees some faded papers, cables dangling. No computer, phone, or any sort of electronic device remained. He opens a drawer and finds some pens, paper clips, pads of paper. Another drawer reveals an advertisement, the company name at the top: Rath's Hotline. The advertisement was for people to call in who had information about potential lost puppies. Huh? Hartley shakes his head in disbelief. Somehow, he doubts this was a place for missing pets. The date on the advertisement was from 1998. 

Dropping the paper on the desk, he follows Oliver upstairs. Several more desks were pushed up against the walls. In one corner, he sees a mattress, much cleaner than the previous one, blankets piled neatly on top. The garbage bin was empty. 

Back downstairs they go, finding a door that leads to the basement. Hartley pauses at the top, the memories of the dead bodies flooding his vision. Oliver heads down without hesitation. After a few moments, Oliver gave the all clear. Hartley descends the stairs, slowly, grateful that Oliver had found a light. 

He finds Oliver standing in front of an open safe. Peering in, Hartley doesn't see much of anything aside from a few empty envelopes and a couple of empty revolver cases. 

"Must be where they did the real business." Oliver says, turning. 

Hartley watches him circle the room, tapping at the walls. "Walls are solid, no signs of digging. Floor is clear. Best part, no dead bodies." 

Hartley couldn't help but laugh at that, although weakly, as Oliver had grinned at him when he said that. 

Heading back outside, slapping a padlock on the door after ensuring all the windows were locked, Oliver gazes around. "This is a good spot. The river is in plain sight, coffee shop over there, book store, office supplies, various other small family-owned businesses." 

Hartley watches as the gears in Oliver's brain churns out ideas, the light in the archer's eyes brightening. 

"Great, you found a place that's simply to die for, all the while I'm actually literally dying over here." Felicity's voice rang out loud and clear. 

Oliver lets out a rare laugh. "C'mon, kid. Her highness doesn't like to be kept waiting." 

"You better believe it." 

Hartley laughs, grateful for the beautiful clear day, and the light banter, dissolving the last of the nightmare from memory. 

\----------------------------------------------

Back at the Arrowcave, handing Felicity a jumbo-sized latté, Hartley glances at her monitor. Blueprints for PalmerTech are still on display. He should get a message over to Len. Hauling out his cell phone, he proceeds to do just that. 

Oliver, pocketing his own cell phone, spoke up. "Quentin will be here this afternoon to discuss that building from yesterday. It's early yet, want to check out the next building?" 

Felicity pulled up the list of Hartley's buildings, focusing on one that's three blocks away. "How about this one? Easy to get to on foot so you shouldn't be late for Quentin's arrival. Four-story building, used to be businesses on the ground floor, apartments above. Left vacant after a fire ten years ago. Declared unstable. Haven't been able to get in contact with the owners to get the building demolished." 

"Good enough. Hart?" 

Glancing up, startled, very few people call him Hart. 

"Hartley, you okay?" Felicity inquired, concern in her eyes. 

Finishing his own drink, he tosses the cup into the can. "Yeah, fine. Let's go." He heads for the elevator, Oliver in tow, thankful that his new friend doesn't see his flushed cheeks. 

Three blocks down, they arrived at the building. This one isn't near as old as the previous two, but Hartley feared it would topple just by looking at it. The entire right side is black, walls crumbled, the roof collapsed. The left side looked mostly intact. 

"Doesn't look very stable." 

Hartley agreed, glancing upwards, catching a hint of metal in an upper window. He blinked to find nothing there. 

"Yeah, I really don't want to go in there." Turning away, Hartley makes a note to have this building demolished. "What do you think of the location?" 

Oliver turns around, taking in their surroundings. "No view of the river, can barely make out the Verdant beyond those tall buildings, no coffee shop in sight." 

Hartley looks around as well. "No trees either. Lots of office buildings. Good view of the Fire Department, though, on the next block." He makes a note to sell the lot to the city. 

"By the way, have you thought of what to do with the first two buildings?" 

Felicity's voice chimed in before Hartley could reply. "I got a message from Lyla, she's coming in this afternoon. I hope you don't mind but I mentioned to her about the first building. I think she might be interested in having that one as a vantage point for keeping tabs on PalmerTech." 

ARGUS is interested in PalmerTech, eh? "Um, sure. We can work something out." 

"Great! You have just enough time to find a Big Belly Burger and come back before Captain Lance arrives." 

"She is something else," Hartley mused. 

"You have no idea, kid." Oliver replied, heading off. 

\----------------------------------------------

Hartley had just spent two hours talking with Captain Quentin Lance of the Starling City Police Department. Star City. He'll get used to the newer name eventually. 

During this time, Lyla Michaels, head of ARGUS and the wife of John Diggle, had arrived, listening intently. 

"Right, then." Captain Lance makes some final notes before pocketing his notepad. "It's clear you had no idea the going-ons in that building, we have proof you only just arrived. With your signature on these documents, we'll set to work on investigating the crime scene and see if we find anything else. What do you intend to do with the building?" 

Lyla stepped in. "That's why I'm here, Quentin." 

Both Hartley and Captain Lance looked up at Lyla, a small woman with short brown hair, leather jacket and black pants. Only her eyes betrayed just how deadly she really was. 

"PalmerTech?" Captain Lance inquired. 

Lyla nods. "Two weeks ago, an ARGUS truck was stolen from the outskirts. Last night it was seen at PalmerTech amidst a group of non-English speaking males. Haven't been seen since. Something is going on there that has piqued ARGUS' interest." 

At that last comment, Lyla looked pointedly at Hartley. He felt the Captain's eyes on him as well. 

"Um, well, if ARGUS wants the building, they can certainly have it. I've no use for it. Was gonna sell it anyway." Hartley shrugged, hoping the two pairs of intense eyes don't see the beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck. 

Lyla nods, not fully satisfied. Pleased to have the building but annoyed at what Hartley hasn't revealed. 

"Right, then," Captain Lance repeats, standing up. "I'm sure you two can handle the property deeds. Thank you for your time, Mr Rathaway." With a nod to Lyla, he heads on up to the outside. 

Once he was gone, Lyla snapped her glare back to Hartley, causing him to wince. 

Before he got the verbal order, Hartley pulled up the blueprints of PalmerTech and points at the four blue dots. 

"Servers. One in each corner. Each containing a different set of data. Alone, the data cannot be accessed. Together, and in a certain order, everything about PalmerTech becomes available." 

Hartley glances at his cell phone. No reply yet. 

"What kind of information?" Lyla asks. 

"Not sure. Obviously different from when Ray and Felicity ran the place, and different from Queen Consolidated. Seems like seedier people moved right in." 

C'mon, Leonard, haven't you cracked the code yet? Hartley taps his fingers on the console, irritated. 

"You saw the truck." A statement. Hartley knew what she was referring to. 

"Yeah, me and Oliver were nearby last night. Two men, dark clothing, shorter than Oliver, one was shorter than me. Loading crates, standard looking, onto the truck. No idea what they were saying, wasn't English. Oliver didn't know the language either." 

"So, not English, Russian, Chinese or Spanish then." 

Wow, who knew Oliver was a multilinguist? "Yeah, probably. They seemed kinda smallish, despite their height. I didn't get a look at their skin as they were clad head to toe. Although the one that died on top of me had a much bulkier build." Hartley shudders at that memory. Was it really only just last night? 

"What?" Lyla exclaimed, startled. Guess she hadn't heard that part. 

In detail, Hartley explained how the third guy had snuck up on him, and how it startled him due to his enhanced hearing, and how a bullet found its way through the guy, falling forward on top of Hartley. He left out the part about his dagger neatly implanted into the bastard. "Do you still have anything with blood on it?" Hartley shudders, and felt saddened at the loss of his shirt. "Yeah, I think I left my shirt over in the sleeping area." He vaguely gestures to the far side. Closing his eyes, taking deep breaths to steady himself, he hears Lyla hunt around for his shirt, finds it, and start talking rapidly on her cell phone. What a couple of days. Dead bodies, getting shot at, criminal activities at PalmerTech, a thousand and one questions with the captain of the police department followed by the head of ARGUS. Wishing he were back in Central City, wondering if he'll even sleep tonight, Hartley sighs, checking his phone again. Still no reply. "I'm taking this, it could help determine who or what nationality these men are from." Hartley waves in acknowledgement as Lyla headed for the elevators. He has no intention of wearing that shirt again, anyway. He really hates losing clothing. 

\----------------------------------------------

That night, Hartley found himself patrolling Star City with the Green Arrow. He briefly wondered why there's nobody else out here when Felicity's voice broke through the comm. 

"Quiet on the streets tonight. Not much happening over at PalmerTech. Police radios are quiet. Although, there might be some activity a little over to your right." 

Hartley glances to his right and sees a Jitter's. 

"Seriously? This late at night?" Hartley exclaimed. 

"They have these cream-filled donuts that I like. Today's the last day for the sale price." 

"Fine, fine. I'll make sure to nab some before I head back." Hartley glances to his left, thinking he heard a sound. 

"Thanks, you're a real sweetheart, unlike someone else I know." 

A growl is heard over the comm, from Oliver who's a block over. 

"I'm just gonna finish looking over here, then I'll hit up Jitter's. See you two in a few." Hartley clicked off his comm, not wanting to listen in on their conversation, guaranteed to be heated. 

Standing up, pulling the hood back to allow the breeze to flow through his hair and cool the sweat that appeared on his forehead, he heads to where he thought he heard a sound. 

He doesn't see anything at first but he certainly felt a presence. He turns quickly, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever is up here with him, but nothing. Calming himself, he whistles softly, projecting outward as he turns slowly. There! A boot just flashed out of sight. Still whistling, he moves forward and peers around the stack of crates. The back of a leather jacket disappears around another corner. He cuts off his whistling and silently dashes forward. 

Only to be caught with an elbow to the face, the guy following it up with a basic handgun pressed to his forehead. "Any last words, brat?" The guy sneered at him. 

Petrified, Hartley couldn't breathe, eyes raised to the finger on the trigger. A soft bang is heard, although appeared loud in Hartley's ears, and the guy in front of him toppled backward, a bullet neatly embedded right between the eyes, gun falling from his fingers. Hartley fell backward himself, landing hard, catching his breath. He spun his head around to see the long barrel of a rifle disappear. 

A few minutes later, he felt a hand on his shoulder, then he was pulled to his feet. He barely registered being brought back to the Arrowcave, and put to bed. 

The nightmares persisted, always ending with a gun pressed to his forehead, a bullet being released. 

\----------------------------------------------

Over the next two days, Hartley and Oliver explored three more of the buildings, in varying states of decay, none of which held any particular interest. ARGUS claimed one as another strategic location within Star City, the other two sold to the city. Hartley kept the second building they viewed in his name but gave it over to Team Arrow as an extra base, waystation, whatever they wish to use it for. The burnt-out building was sold to the city as well and is scheduled to be demolished in the coming weeks. 

At night, he patrolled with Oliver, also finding out that the other team members are currently in Keystone looking into a series of homicides for Captain Lance. Homicides that originated in Star City. He also learned that John Diggle has been home with a broken leg and several gunshot wounds to an arm. From what he gathered, Diggle seemed to be enjoying the vacation, staying home with his son. Hartley had to smile at that. Even though he has yet to meet Diggle face-to-face, he's heard a lot of stories about him, from Oliver, Felicity and Lyla. Sweet, dependable Diggle who's the scariest and most deadliest being to roam the streets of Star City. Far more intimidating than the Green Arrow himself. 

As for the mystery sniper, Hartley kept his eyes peeled, his ears open. He thought he caught a glimpse a few times but he couldn't be certain. As he approached the areas of the sightings, he found nothing, only felt a sense that someone recently stood where he was standing. Once, he came close, his nostrils picking up a faint musky scent. He never mentioned the sniper to Oliver or Felicity, his continued search from that first night. 

Overall, it had been a productive few days, Hartley managed to get most of his buildings taken care of. Only one remain on the far side of the city, along a different portion of the river. 

He also made good on his promise and got a better security system in place for the Arrowcave. A temporary one until he can return to upgrade everything to a special unique system he has in the works back home. 

Nearly every half hour, Hartley would also check his cell phone but still no reply. He sent off another message to Len. 

On a cloudy evening, right after a rainstorm, the clouds just starting to break apart, Hartley found himself alone in the Arrowcave. Oliver and Felicity are taking the night off, claiming a much needed date night. 

Restless, he pulls up the info for the final building, studies its location, and heads off. 

\----------------------------------------------

Standing outside the four-story building, much alike to that of his own back in Central City, Hartley glances around at his surroundings. Waterfront, a treeline on the west side, a fountain on the east. Very few buildings are nearby, mostly old warehouses. Looking up, he could see PalmerTech in the far distance, as if looming over the entire city. 

Glancing back at his building again, he notes that it's the best one of the lot. Much better condition on the outside, no smashed windows that he could see. Squinting at the glare from the setting sun, he sees a window covering on the top floor. Possibly left over from when tenants vacated due to increased activity from the abandoned warehouses. 

Another unlocked door. Hartley pushes his way into the building and begins searching around. He hadn't informed Oliver or Felicity where he was going. He didn't even take the comm unit as he wanted to explore this place himself. Besides, he didn't want to interrupt the monster marathon at the theatres. 

Exploring each floor silently, entering each door for a quick search, he slowly approached the top floor. So far it's a mostly empty building, only some scattered, old broken pieces of furniture laying around. Very little garbage, some dust, surprisingly no bugs. 

Reaching the top floor, Hartley checked in each room, leaving the one with the window covering for last. Something about that final room piqued his interest, so much that it scared him, making him force his legs to move, step by grueling step. 

Before he was ready, he found himself standing outside that door. Inhaling deeply, hoping to calm his nerves, he pushes the door open. 

Hartley found himself in a nicely furnished room. A corner sectional leather sofa, two big comfy chairs, flat screen TV on the wall, some tables. Kitchen is off to the left side, dishes piled up in the rack, drying. Someone is clearly living here. Venturing further in, he finds a bedroom in the back. Definitely very much lived in, as he sees the rumpled bedsheets, some magazines scattered on the floor, rifle cases lining the side wall next to the closet. Standing beside the table, he looks out the side window, seeing that the sun had fully set. 

About to turn, Hartley froze, catching his breath as the bedroom door behind him creaked open further, lightly hitting the wall. 

"Well, well, what do we have here?" 

Before he could turn around, he felt a large muzzle pressed between his shoulder blades. His heart thudded loudly in his ears. 

"Wha ..." 

"Shhh ... mice shouldn't speak." The whispered voice felt hot on his ear, leaving him a little damp, and he couldn't be certain, but did this mystery guy emit a soft purr? Can't be, probably growled a bit. 

Swallowing the large lump in his throat, Hartley shifted a foot but froze as the barrel patted down his sides. He's not sure how long it is but judging by the distance between them, and how far down the grasped weight is, he figured it was at least rifle length, definitely not a handgun. 

He yelped at the kneaded pressure just below his right armpit, hearing a snicker behind him. Damn his over sensitized body. He shudders again as the rifle did the same on the left side, applying that pressure before trickling down his side. 

He barely noticed its absence until he felt the hard metal slide up the inside of his left leg, his breath becoming more ragged as the barrel raises the back of his trench coat. A tiny flicker to the inner thigh, but not quite high enough. 

Hartley exhales as he felt the coat fall, only to be followed by a sharp intake as the rifle scurried up his right leg, pressing harder, a little higher but still not quite high enough. 

"Argh!" He cried out in frustration, unable to catch himself, his fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly. 

Some heat, a brush of damp air, "I daresay, this game of cat and mouse has enticed you." He hears the soft chuckle in his ear before it was gone again. 

Hartley hears the rifle being set down. Thinking this was his chance to catch the guy off-guard, he starts to spin around only to find his back heavily pressed against the guy's chest, gloved hands holding tightly. 

"Now, now. Can't have you scurrying off so soon, just when we are just starting to get to know one another, Rath." 

He shudders at how his name was gruffly loosed in his ear. Who is this guy, anyway? He knows Hartley, but he doesn't know who this stranger is .. does he? 

Hartley attempts to wiggle free but froze when he felt a gloved hand roam up to catch the side of his neck, thumb under his jaw, pressing his head backwards. 

"You live up to your name so very well, wiggling trying to escape, yet so easy to freeze up. Let's see what you're packing." 

Hartley's breath is ragged as he feels the right glove roam inside his coat, entering each pocket to feel its contents. 

"Ooh, nice. A few daggers, a tablet, some cables, hmm ... " He feels fingers roaming around some round objects. "River stones? That's interesting. Never knew a mouse that collected rocks before, that are not of the shiny, sparkly variety." 

During the search, Hartley felt the thumb on his jaw move, kneading around the chin as it rose higher. The thumb reaches his lower lip, lightly running along it. Without thinking, Hartley parted his lips and felt it graze the top of his lower teeth. 

His eyes snapped open when the fingers lowered back down to grasp his neck again. He clawed at the glove instinctively as it pressed against his windpipe. 

"Ah, here it is." A piece of metal was held up before his eyes ... the shell casing. 

"I am quite adamant about leaving no evidence behind. However, that day on the rooftop, I accidently left this behind in my haste to not be seen by Mr Queen. He can get quite antsy when I'm around. I don't believe he likes me very much." Hartley hears him chuckle at a memory. 

The glove loosened its hold around his neck, then dropped altogether. He hears the shell being placed on the table, followed by some shuffling noises, more items being placed on the table. By their sounds, it seems like his predator was removing all his guns, and some daggers, and something smaller with multiple sharp edges. Four boot knives followed, and packets of live bullets, quite a few of the latter. 

Peeking back over his shoulder, Hartley couldn't stop the low whistle at all the artillery laid out on the table. Turning for a better look, he could clearly see every single piece had been lovingly cared for and heavily customized. The two rifles laying on the table were definitely not the standard issue length. 

"How ... " 

"Like you, I love my pockets." He feels him press up against his back again. Fingers grasped the back of his hood, pulling his head back. "Surprised your hood doesn't have any, not visibly anyway." Fingers roamed around his hood, tugging, kneading, gliding ... Hartley shudders, imagining those fingers on his skin. 

"Hrmm ... " Fingers knead over something tiny. "Tracking device? Bug?" 

"Se .. sen .. " Curse his faltering voice. Taking a slow breath, he replies, "Sensor blockers." 

"Mmm, I see. Handy indeed." The hands glide forward to slide inside the folds of the coat, and pulls back, the coat thudding to the floor. "I'll need to slice a couple of those out for myself, later." 

Later? Before Hartley could think more on that, he felt teeth sink into his neck. His eyes bulged at the pain, gasping for breath. He leaned back heavily as the sensation took over his mind, clouding his vision. Moments later he felt the teeth retreat, leaving behind a trail of saliva as a tongue grazed upward to his earlobe. Panting, his own fingers curling into the jeans behind him, he felt his earlobe being nibbled. 

The sensations grew rapidly as groping hands, no longer gloved, found their way up inside his sweater, nails grazing skin. He felt a surge of panic as fingers stopped on some scars, kneading, feeling how deep they are. 

"Hmm." 

Hartley blinked. Was that a concerned hmm? 

A final rub, the fingers continued upward, glancing over a hardened nipple along the way. Fingers poked out of the top of his sweater to rub along his neck, pressing him further into the other's mouth, feeling the sucking lips and teasing of the tongue around his ear. 

Pulling back, "This is in the way." 

Hartley felt the hands removed from his body, and his sweater whisked away. 

"Much better." The voice returns back to his ear, feeling its huskiness and hot breath. 

Hartley risks turning his head, just enough to catch the man's face in his peripheral vision. His breath catches as he sees stunning grey eyes staring back into his light green ones, a hint of a smile on his lips. 

"You just can't help yourself, constantly wiggling." He snickers. 

"Uh ... Argh!" Hartley's eyes snap wide then shuts tightly as he feels both nipples pinched hard, simultaneously. 

"You like that, don'tcha?" 

Riding out the pain, Hartley soon finds the pain overcome by pleasure. He moans, no longer caring if anyone heard. 

"I thought so." 

The hands lowered, grasping his waist, pulling him back tightly with a slight lift. 

"You see what you do to me? Ever since I first saw you all those years ago, asleep on the train, without a care for your surroundings, looking so young and innocent," a laugh, "although your pants displayed another story." 

Years ago? They never met before, not until now. Right? 

Hartley feels the hardness rubbing against the back of his pants, one hand on his waist, the other casually roaming his chest, flicking his nipples, kneading his scars, occasionally digging into the side of his neck, keeping his ear close to the other's mouth. Every word sent vibrations through his body, caused by that dangerously sweet voice. 

"There were three roughnecks watching your prone body, your chest gently rising and falling, their eyes full of hunger." 

Fingers probed his bottom lip again, to which he involuntarily granted access. 

"One glance at the artillery I was carrying," he pressed forward, kneaded his crack with his hardness, for emphasis, "they backed off like scared rabbits. I was returning from a mission so I was packing plenty." 

Three fingers were roaming along Hartley's tongue and the insides of his mouth, tickling the back. Hartley barely felt his belt being undone, his pants pulled open. 

"I lost sight of you in Starling after three days of following you around aimlessly. You didn't seem to know where you were going. I was going to approach and take you back to my place, but a part of me didn't want to scare you off, like I did with those older guys. Also, I got called away on assignment." 

Starling? Hartley blinked as he felt himself grasped through his underwear. 

"That ... " 

"... was just after you left home, after your dad rejected you. You ran away, not wanting to be at the mercy of his rage any further." 

Released, Hartley turned around to face the other, recognition lighting his eyes. 

"You ... it really was you, all those times I caught a hint of movement only to turn and nobody was there. Those times I heard footsteps approaching while I was huddled in an alley trying to sleep, only to find nobody around. The glints of metal in the flickering lights. The blanket, the food. Then nothing." 

The other nodded, sadly. "Like I said, I got called away on assignment. When I got back, I searched for days but couldn't find you. I had feared the worst. Several years later, I saw you on the news, a random face in the crowd, standing outside STAR Labs as Harrison Wells spoke about the particle accelerator." 

Hartley pales at that memory. Earlier that day, he had thought to go back home, talk with his parents. He stormed out of the house minutes later, closing his ears to his father's vivid cursing. He later found himself outside of STAR Labs, barely hearing Harrison Wells. His attention had snapped into focus when his hearing caught something that nobody else could hear, the sound of an overload before an explosion. He had ducked away just in time, fully covered against the blast. The crowd wasn't so lucky, getting the full brunt. Lots of bodies groaned in pain, rolling on the ground. Hartley had to close his ears to all the sounds, but at the same time amazed that nobody was killed. Well, that he knew of at that time. Later, he had heard about some private planes crashing, killing majority of the occupants; some vehicles crashed into one another, only a few casualties; and lots of metahumans rose up on a killing rampage, to which many were thwarted by another meta who had chosen to protect Central City. 

Hartley's features tightened as his memory continued, reminding him how he scrambled through the streets for days, amidst the chaos, hiding from the new, deadly metas, scared to death. He eventually found himself inside an old warehouse, where he collapsed upon a mattress releasing all his anguish and pain. He smiled at the memory of strong arms folding around him, holding him close, like he had done to that very same young boy many years previous. 

A hand at the back of his neck brought him back to the present, the soft mouth devouring his own, pulling them close. Hartley surrenders himself to this long-forgotten guardian angel. 

\----------------------------------------------

Aftermath 

"If you saw me on the news, in Central City, why didn't you come find me?" 

Hartley clung tightly, savouring the afterglow, nowhere near steady enough to get up. He felt a hand passing through his hair, kneading his scalp, flicking at his ears, all gentle. 

"I wasn't exactly in a position to be going anywhere I wanted. I was captured and imprisoned by a crazy woman, forced to join her squad of criminals on suicidal assignments. Even had a bomb inserted in my skull to make sure I carried out orders." 

Hartley gasped at that, attempted to get up but hands pushed him back down again, holding him close. 

"Easy, Rath, I'm fine." 

"But, the bomb ... " He faltered. 

"Is gone. Yes, it exploded but it wasn't inside my skull when that happened. Without Waller ever knowing it, an acquaintance of mine was able to retrieve the bomb. I kept it on me anyway as Waller needed to know where I was at all times. Tracking device." 

Hartley felt him turn toward him. Lifting his head, he peers into those deadly, yet soft eyes. He feels a hand cup the side of his face. 

"We were on an assignment; the details are in the computers at both STAR Labs and the Arrowcave. Diggle and Lyla were with us. When the plan backfired due to a betrayal, I decided to do a stupid heroic thing to ensure the others escaped safely. I stayed behind and blew myself up, catching as many bad guys in the process." 

Hartley must have had a quizzical look on his face, as the other had leaned forward to capture his lips. Released, their foreheads pressed together, the other continued softly. 

"I made them all believe I died. I wanted out. I didn't want to be with that crazy bitch Waller anymore. None of us had. I saw my opportunity and I took it. I hid below the surface, an underground passage as the bomb went off. It was a couple years before I finally made my way back to Starling, now Star City. I kept myself hidden these past few months. Oliver, Diggle, Lyla, nobody knows I'm back, and alive." 

Hartley props up on an elbow as the other settled back against the pillows, eyes never wavering from those grey eyes. He leans up and kisses his angel. "Why'd you run away?" He knew the other would know he meant a few days ago. 

"I didn't want Oliver to see me, plus I couldn't be certain that was really you. I ... honestly, I never thought I'd see you again, especially not here in Starling." 

"When did you realize it was me?" Hartley nibbles on his ear. 

"I wasn't absolutely certain until I saw you standing here, in my bedroom. I followed you these past few days, a hint of recognition. I wasn't willing to believe my gut, yet had to find out for sure." Hartley hears him sigh. "Damn glad I did follow you, nearly lost you again, twice." 

Hartley felt smooth arms hold him tightly, feeling all the emotions that lay under the surface. "So, what now?" 

"Hmm, thought about hanging around here for awhile longer, although no telling when cops will show up. Had a couple close calls already." 

Hartley beamed at him. "I think I can remedy that situation." 

"Oh?" 

"Yeah, I came here to check the building out. It's mine." Hartley nips the other's nose playfully. 

Hartley suddenly found himself on his back again, the other on top, nuzzling into his neck again, a roaming hand stroking him back to full hardness. He gasps, panting for a minute until the other sits back up, hands rubbing his belly and along the scar, pausing. 

"This ... " 

Hartley groaned, unwelcome memories flooding in. "Courtesy of my dad before I fled. He didn't take too kindly when I told him I was gay. Burned like hellfire, was a few months before the pain dwindled to a dull ache. Now I barely feel it, except when it rains." 

"Hence the long green trench coat." 

"Matches my eyes," Hartley smiles up at him, running his own fingers along the many tattoos, now knowing they are names of targets he had been hired to assassinate. 

"Indeed they do, my precious little mouse." Hartley watches as the other smiles sweetly, gazing down upon his naked body. "Y'know, I believe an actual introduction is in order." 

Hartley blinked at that. With all that has happened, he still has no clue the identity of his predator, his guardian angel. "Uh ... " 

The other leans forward, hovering above his lips, eyes locked upon his. "My name is Floyd Lawton. Most people call me Deadshot. And you, Hartley Rathaway, may call me whatever you want." 

With that, lips consumed one another, limbs tangling once again, dawn only an hour away.


	2. Empathetic Piper: Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley and Floyd spend more time together, a forgotten job has a timeframe change and proves nearly fatal, Floyd is a jerk yet a lovable jerk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was done with this first side story but I felt the story was lacking. Chapter 2 has some more adventures and actually finishes up the visit to Star City nicely, up to and including the train ride home.
> 
> For the purpose of my story, there's some leeway with Train travel times. Central and Starling seem to be based in multiple areas within the USA depending on which era of comics you're reading or Arrowverse. In the Arrowverse it has been stated multiple times that there are 600 miles between the two cities. I know distances are completely off, but I visualize Central as being in Kansas, and Starling in the Seattle area. (I also view Coast City as being somewhere between San Francisco an San Diego). So basically, please keep an open mind and go with it. :)
> 
> Central City (KS) - Star City (WA)  
> 600 miles = approx 10 hour drive  
> Starling Express = 6 hours  
> Starling Final Departure Time -- 10:00pm  
> Starling First Departure Time -- 6:00am  
> Time Zone Difference -- 2 hours (Star Pacific, Central Central)
> 
> It's the Arrowverse, train has tech and speed. Also, it has been stated (Arrow S2 EP8) that the final departure time is 10pm but all the Train Ticket Guy said for the first departure is that it's in the morning. No time was ever given that I recall so I basically inserted 6am. I did my best to match up the timeframe with Hartley's arrival back to Central City in Chapter 6 of the main story. Catch the train at 6:00am Starling, arrive in Central 2:00pm (6 hrs plus the 2 hr time zone difference).
> 
> Anyway, if the distance and times seem a bit off (or way off), just use Arrowverse Logic and "Go with it" ^_^
> 
> Extra Note: I decided to choose the Rich Text option to upload this chapter just to see how it goes. I'll fix up formatting on another day and any potential spelling errors. Might go back to basic HTML next time.

**Chapter Two**

**\-- The Empathetic Piper --**

Bzzzz .... Bzzzz .... Bzzzz .... 

A pale arm reached toward the noise, fingers groping blindly til they found the nightstand, to grasp the buzzing cell phone. Pressing the answer button, a shrill voice came through. 

"OMG Hartley! You're alive! Where are you? When you didn't come back here I thought the worst. You're okay are you? You're alive? Answer me damnit!" 

A body shifted above him, leaning close, mumbling something, nibbling at his ear. Pulling the cell phone closer, Hartley sighed. 

"M,here." 

"Oh good! You're there. That's a relief. Where are you?" 

Glancing at the bedside clock, Hartley groaned. "S'only 7, F'licity." 

He felt the other shift again, pulling him closer, pressing tightly into his ass. Closing his eyes, Hartley felt the pulse, feeling every inch along his crack, nuzzling lips along the side of his neck. He shuddered. 

"Damnit, Hart. Wake up already!" 

Roaming hands grazed his nipples. "Damnit yourself, I'm awake." He bit back a curse as a nipple was pinched, causing it to harden instantly. 

"Geeze, someone's cranky in the morning." 

Damn that woman. Hartley leaned back in frustration, resulting in penetration, causing him to gasp out loudly. 

"Oh my god, are you okay? Do I need to come get you?" 

"Damnit, Felicity, what the bloody blazes do you want?" His other nipple was pinched before the left hand continued southward; the right nipple continuing being teased, rolled, flicked, pinched. 

"When I didn't see you last night, I thought maybe you had gone for a walk. When I got here this morning, you still weren't here. Naturally I worried, thinking some bandits made off with you in the night. Star City is quite dangerous at night, unlike Central which always seem to be a bright, fun, city ... " 

Hartley let the phone slip from his fingers, as he felt a thumb and forefinger rolling along his head, lightly squeezing, causing him to harden. He groaned as he was penetrated further. He felt a tongue entering his right ear, stroking. 

"Hart?" A male voice this time. 

He was squeezed hard, thumb rubbing along the topside of his length. Snatching the phone back up, he roared. "Damnit, Oliver. Tell that woman of yours I'm okay, I'm more than okay, I'm .... Argh!" His body pulsated as he poured out over the groping hand, his earlobe bitten. Panting, "Fine, fine. I'm okay. Talk later." He tossed the phone to the floor, uncaring whether he pressed the End Call button or not. 

"Persistant buggers," he heard the husky voice in his ear. 

Hartley didn't respond. He shifted so he was more on his stomach than his side, causing Floyd to get a better angle for deeper penetration. He felt him respond, pressing fully, slowly pulling out, pressing in again. Hartley felt the soakened fingers at his lips, granting them entry, smelling and tasting his own release. He sighed contently. 

A few more strokes, Floyd filled him, warming him to his very core. Hartley shuddered, his body pulsating in perfect harmony with his sniper. He smiled at the memory from last night, having finally met his guardian angel, his very own sniper, a bounty hunter named Deadshot. 

"Mmm, thanks for the wake-up." That low, deadly, yet ever so sweet voice purred in his ear, causing another full-body shudder as he was emptied. A nuzzle behind the ear, Hartley felt the bed move as Floyd got up. 

Unmoving, Hartley closed his eyes, allowing his ears to follow Floyd to the bathroom, listening to the shower come alive, water flowing over the naked body. He rolled onto his back as Floyd came back out, pants on. 

"You look damn fine laying there naked on my bed." 

Hartley could only grin at that comment, his eyes pulling Floyd in closer. He was rewarded with strokes along his leg, slowly gliding upwards to knead at his inner thigh, knuckles lightly grazing him. Eyes half-closed in bliss, he felt Floyd's hot breath on him, a tongue lightly flicked his head, then gone. 

"Well, I got business to attend to." 

Wait ... what? Hartley snapped his eyes open to see Floyd pulling on a shirt and exiting the room. He groaned loudly in frustration, slamming a fist into the bed. 

"Don't break the bed." Floyd called back over his shoulder. "At least, no more than we already did last night." Snickers. 

"Fuck you." Hartley growled, receiving only laughter in return. 

May as well get up. Hartley rolled out of bed, not noticing his foot stepping on the End Call button as he padded off to the shower. 

\----------------------------------------------

Out in the main part of the unit, Floyd fired up the stove, with the intention of getting some breakfast ready. After the night they had, he figured the kid must be starving. Just as he got the pan on the burner, the eggs hauled out of the fridge, a bang came at the door. 

"Open the goddamn door, Floyd. I know you're in there!" 

Bloody hell. Floyd sighed, turning the stove off as he turned to answer the door. 

"Wanna keep it down a bit? You're likely to wake up the whole fucking neighbourhood." He growled at the older man, greying hair, a few inches taller than himself. 

"Just you down here, little cousin, and likely whatever rats are still skittering around this damn building." Floyd felt himself pushed aside as the other allowed himself entry. 

"Fuck you." 

"Yeah, no thanks. Give me a nice warm pussy any day." 

Floyd sighed. "What the hell you want?" 

The other turned back to Floyd after a casual glance around the main living space. "You didn't do your job last night. Boss is pissed." 

Job? Crap. "Got kinda busy. I'll do it tonight." Okay, now get the hell out of my place. Floyd seethed, wanting so badly to throw his cousin Francis out the bloody window. 

"You better or Boss will have both our hides." Francis started roaming around. Crap, don't find the bedroom, don't find the bedroom ... Francis saw the partially opened door to the bedroom. 

"You might not want to go in there," Floyd advised, sounding deadly. 

"Oh?" He saw the light sparkle in the asshole's eyes. "Something in there I'm not supposed to see?" 

Floyd shrugged. "Oh, you know. I may have planted some land mines in there, might be a couple unpinned grenades waiting to be kicked, trip wire attached to a bolt or dagger, maybe multiples." 

Francis scowled at him and pushed the door open, banging against the wall. Gazing around, he sees an unmade bed, as assortment of weaponry on the table by the window, some rifles hanging on the wall, scattered clothes and magazines on the floor. 

Glancing in the room, Floyd silently sighed in relief. No sign of Hartley's coat or his clothing. 

"Hmm ... " Francis headed for the bathroom. Peeking in he saw the damp shower but nothing else amiss. 

"See anything interesting?" Floyd stood at the door, arms crossed. 

Francis sighed. "Just a typical, boring apartment. Seriously, don't you have a life?" 

"Considering I'm supposed to be dead, not really." Floyd calmed his heart down, wondering where Hartley disappeared to. 

"Too bad. Well, better for us. No life means you get your job done. Clear?" Francis glared into his grey eyes, before shouldering him aside, aiming for the door. 

"Crystal," Floyd muttered. 

He heard the door slam shut behind him. Exhaling, he stood quietly a moment longer, straining his ear. He smiled and went over to the hidden door in the corner, next to the rifles on the wall. Thumping an unmarked spot on the wall, about halfway up, the door popped open, revealing a breathless Hartley clutching his clothes. 

"C'mere," Hartley fell into Floyd's arms. "He's gone." He stroked his back, grazing his fingernails along the ridges of the spine, causing his boy to arch his back. "That's right, nothing to worry about." He leaned in, sucking along the side of Hartley's neck, rising upwards to his chin, and thrusting his tongue into the waiting mouth. 

\----------------------------------------------

Hartley breathed slowly, trying to slow his pulse, as he felt Floyd's tongue stroke along his own. When he got out of the shower, he had panicked, hearing the loud voices. They sounded angry, threatening, cold ... very unlike Floyd's voice. Hartley had no intention of meeting the intruder. 

Hearing him come toward the bedroom, hearing Floyd trying to stall him, Hartley had gathered up his clothes and frantically searched for a place to hide. The shadow inched closer, Hartley backed up into the corner. Intruder's hand on the bedroom door, Hartley pressed into the wall behind him, accidently pressing the release to a hidden door. Without thinking, he dashed into the closet, pulling the door behind him, just as he heard the bedroom door slam into the wall. 

Closet wasn't exactly the right word, as he felt a heavy barrel press into his groin. There was barely any room for him to move. There wasn't any light either. The alcove was tiny, not allowing the space required to stretch out his arms. He did feel along the wall, finding three long barrels. Probably rifles, shotguns, snipers or something. On either side of him, he felt shelves, his fingers feeling something circular but pointy, multiple points. He leaned back against the wall, trying not to breathe, not wanting to reveal his hiding spot. 

Hartley tried not to move either. The tiniest shift of his legs or feet set pulses running through him as the barrel he was pressed up against (there really was very little room) would knead him in just the right way, but at the worst possible time. Damnit! 

Long moments passed as his heart thudded loudly. Despite his sharp hearing, he could only hear faint, muffled sounds of voices in the bedroom. A few more moments and he felt the door swing open, releasing him into waiting arms. 

Dropping his clothes on the floor, Hartley grabbed Floyd, holding him close. He felt so panicked and frightened. The sense of the stranger was intense, deadly, way worse than how he sounded with his words. He barely heard Floyd's soothing words, only felt them, the calm, the protection, the glorious nails on his back, the tender tongue in his mouth. 

Within moments, Hartley calmed down. Nipping at Floyd's nose, he pulled back. "Thanks, sorry ... " how could he even begin to explain? 

"Shhh, li'l mouse, no need to apologize. My cousin can be downright scary, he even scares me." Floyd pulled his head in again, kissing him on the forehead. Hartley sighed, relaxing completely. Just the right kind of tenderness on his forehead has always worked to calm him down. 

Stepping out of Floyd's embrace, he bent to pick up his clothes. He felt the other's hand kneading his butt, a finger grazing his crack. "Didn't you say you had business?" 

"Mmm," Floyd licked his finger. "I did, but that can wait now. I was gonna make breakfast but I'm in the mood to go out. Get dressed." He pinched a nipple with his wet fingers, causing Hartley to gasp out a curse. 

Hartley watched as Floyd glided out of the room, lightly laughing. Shaking his head in amusement, he proceeded to get dressed. Snatching up his cell phone from the floor, he headed out to find his beloved predator. 

\----------------------------------------------

"So, where to?" Hartley yelled over the noise of Floyd's bike. 

Floyd smiled as he ripped down the road, feeling Hartley's arms wrapped tightly around his waist. It was a gorgeous day, the trees still glistening from the early morning dew and the leftovers of yesterday's rain. After a few minutes, he pulled into the Jitters near Oliver's new building that Hartley still owned. 

Removing his helmet, he peered back over his shoulder, gazing into Hartley's green eyes. "We can start with here." He put a wicked grin on his face, causing Hartley to flush. This was going to be fun day! 

Entering the Jitters, keeping a hand at Hartley's lower back, kneading his fingers through the fabric of the coat, Floyd glanced around and sighed. The placed was packed; so many people getting their morning caffeine as they dash off to work. 

"It's not as bad as it looks," Hartley commented, brightening. "Majority of the tables are in use, sure, but there're three doing up the orders and the line is relatively short and moving quickly. We're just at the tail end of the rushhhh ..." 

Floyd grinned at how his li'l mouse squeaked, having felt a finger press along his crack. "Alright then, let's hop in line." Leading the way, he felt Hartley press closer to him, avoiding a collision with a lady talking on her cell phone while juggling two full take-out trays. Floyd paused mid-step, letting Hartley bump into him, immediately feeling the hardness pressed into his backside. "C'mon," Floyd smiled as he entered the line which now only had three customers in front of him. 

A few minutes later, they found a table and sat down with their drinks and bagels. Inhaling the scent of his mocha, Floyd took a sip, letting the warmth tackle his tight insides. Damn that Francis. He was intolerable on the best of days; today he was downright insufferable. Floyd never liked his cousin, having being forced into the business because of the asshole. Sure, he had forgotten about the job he was supposed to have done last night, but that was the farthest thing from his mind. He had feared his cousin would find Hartley, hurt him, take him away. 

Floyd was halfway through his mocha before he realized the gaze upon him. Startled out of his thoughts, he looked up into his beloved green eyes, concern and worry visible. 

"He frightened you." A soft statement. 

Floyd nodded, unable to explain why, not knowing the words. "Long history. Bad." 

As he tackled his bagel, Floyd felt his legs parted, a boot gliding up the inside of his leg, comforting, possessive. He heard a soft humming which seemed to flow right inside him, warming him, calming him. He realized after a few moments that Hartley was doing the humming. Now, that's interesting. Floyd licked his lips, teasingly. 

Hartley stood up, finishing the last of his drink. "Let's get out of here." 

Floyd laughed, gathering up the garbage and tossing it as he followed Hartley outside. Continuing to follow, Floyd paused outside a building where Hartley was picking the lock. 

"Well, aren't you the bad boy, breaking and entering." Floyd glanced around, not seeing anyone looking their way. 

"My building, I just forgot the key at home." Hartley pushed the door open, Floyd followed him in. 

"Oh? Nice place, although I think I like mine better." 

Floyd barely heard the door shut when he felt Hartley slam him up against the wall, mouth covering his, hands running up inside his shirt. Damn, he knew the kid had a good mouth, but those fingers are on a whole other level. He gasped as he felt his own nipples pinched hard, and rubbed aggressively. When Hartley pulled back to gain some air, Floyd clamped onto the side of his neck, lightly biting, sucking hard. He felt the lithe body shudder beneath his tongue. 

Pulling back, Floyd let out a low laugh. "Trying to get the upper hand, Rath? No matter what you do, I'll always have you squirming beneath me." 

As a response, he felt Hartley grip him through the pants, squeezing hard. "Fuck, kid ... " he cursed, pressing his head back into the wall as his own body started to pulse. He hadn't realized just how hard he had gotten. He let out a deep sigh, content, eyes half closing as he felt the hand loosen its grip to knead instead. 

\----------------------------------------------

Hartley had worried that something was bothering his friend. He knew Floyd's cousin rattled him, which in turn infuriated him. Finishing his drink, he left Jitters with the intention of calming Floyd down, completely. Entering his building, he proceeded to do just that, as he slammed Floyd up against the wall, ravishing his mouth, and clawing at his nipples. He felt the tension pour out of his beloved, under his skillful hands. He didn't stop there. He wanted to remove all thoughts of that bastard out of Floyd's mind. This was their day together and damn anyone for interfering. 

Kneading through the soaked pants, Hartley ran a thumb over the head. His other hand was put to use clawing at those nipples hidden under the shirt. All the while he watched Floyd's face, tightening, relaxing, tensing, squirming. So many emotions appeared which pleased Hartley immensely as he was the one causing all those emotions. 

Leaning forward, tugging at the pants, he lightly brushed his lips along Floyd's forehead. "Release your tensions, precious one. Let all the stress flow out. My warmth will penetrate you right to your very core." He nipped his nose, savouring the hot, ragged breath along his throat. 

Pulling back, escaping the tongue that sought him out, Hartley raked his fingers down Floyd's chest as he knelt down in front of him. Nuzzling his crotch, he inhaled the scent, the wetness pressed against his cheek. He felt the hardness approaching its third orgasm of the morning, the second since entering this building. Biting lightly through the fabric, Hartley wondered how many more Floyd has in him. 

He heard the expected gasp and long exhale of breath above him. Gripping the fabric tightly in his teeth, he pulled downwards, hearing a rip. Burrowing his nose into the hole, he thrust out his tongue, catching hard flesh. Hartley grinned at having his sniper going commando. He could only imagine how that felt on the motorcycle; probably why Floyd was so hard and releasing multiple times. 

He felt strong fingers running through his hair, gently tugging; Hartley obliged. Bobbing his head, he roamed his lips and tongue along Floyd's length. At the first lick of the head, he felt the warmth pour out, splattering him in the face and on his tongue. Hungrily, he sucked him dry, catching the last of the orgasm. 

Standing up, Hartley lifted Floyd's shirt, nuzzling his way up the tight abs, soaking him in his own liquids. Flicking out a tongue, he tormented a nipple. Stroking, sucking, biting, always rubbing and pinching the other. Nuzzling his cheek into the nipple, he left a trail of the white liquid as he shifted to torment the other nipple. He could feel Floyd's breath very ragged. Biting hard, he savoured victory of finally making him scream. 

\----------------------------------------------

Damn this kid! His scream trailing off, Floyd panted as he felt his shirt drop down. Reaching out blindly, he grasped Hartley's shirt and pulled him in, clamping his mouth over his, thrusting his tongue between the lips. He felt those tender, delicious lips sucking on his tongue. 

Pushing him away, gathering his voice, trying to steady himself, Floyd rasped out, "Nobody ... has ever ... " he inhaled some air, breathing deeply, "made me scream before." 

He felt ... pride, relief, bliss, ecstasy, flooding into him all at once. Floyd leaned heavily against the wall, startled, as he felt the radiance pouring out of Hartley. He saw the pure happiness on the kid's face but that was nothing compared to the overwhelming flood of emotions. 

Hartley fell into him, holding, nuzzling. All Floyd could do was hold him close, letting this wonderful creature flood him with those emotions, however he's doing it. Out of the corner of his eye, as he nuzzled into Hartley's hair, he thought he saw someone ducking away from the window. 

Sighing, not wanting to let go so soon, he figured they best move on. "C'mon, Rath. Time to go." Gently pushing him away, he licked Hartley's cheek as he passed by toward the door. 

Stepping outside, he felt an immediate chill, and heard that blasted giggle behind him. 

"Here, let me fix you up." Floyd felt those gentle hands grasp the torn fabric, a needle and thread emerging from one of the many hidden pockets. Within moments, Hartley had him covered up again, although barely. "That should do it. Only a few stitches but it's more than enough to keep prying eyes away." 

Hartley giggled and Floyd kissed him deep before releasing him to put the padlock back on the door. 

"So, where to next?" Floyd laughed at the kid's question, as they strolled back to his bike. 

\----------------------------------------------

Ducking out of sight, not wanting to be seen, Oliver Queen leaned up against the side of the building, his building, rubbing a palm over his eyes. 

"Did you find him? Where the blazes is he? What's he doing?" 

Ignoring Felicity's persistent barrage of questions, Oliver laughed quietly. Pushing away from the building, he got on his bike and headed back to base. 

Minutes later, he was pounced, punched, and roared at soon as he got to the bunker. Grasping her wrists, Oliver turned Felicity around and held her close. 

"There's nothing wrong, at all. Hartley's spending the day with a friend." He loved this woman with all his heart but damn is she one nosy, feisty .... he ended his thought right there, knowing damn well Felicity can read minds, or at least, appears to be able to do so. 

"Seriously? That's it? He made a friend and couldn't bother to tell me?" Felicity glanced back at him, not truly believing him. 

"Seems they've known each other quite awhile." Releasing her, Oliver went over to the console, tapping in some keys. 

"The ARGUS file?" Felicity came up behind him, seeing the screen. "That last Suicide Squad mission from a few years ago?" 

"Yup. The one Diggle and Lyla were on." Skimming the notes, Oliver paused at every mention of a certain individual. Near the end, the final mention, no body was ever recovered, presumed destroyed in the explosion. He smirked, pondering the odds. 

"What's that smirk? Why did you smirk? Is that a good smirk or ..." 

Oliver shut her up by kissing Felicity, deeply. Better not tell Diggle about this. Not yet. 

\----------------------------------------------

Pulling into another parking lot, this one along another stretch of the river, Floyd released the kickstand, pulling his helmet off. Standing, he turned to Hartley, seeing his eyes closed as the cool breeze caressed his face, flowed through his dark hair. Stepping close, Floyd nibbled his earlobe, causing Hartley to squeak. How he loved that sound! 

"It's nearly Noon. Seeing as we barely ate anything, I figure we'd do an early lunch." He held out his hand, pulling Hartley up off the bike. 

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I got to eat plenty," came the giggled reply. Floyd groaned, annoyed at his pants tightening again. 

"Inside," he forced out a growl, "now, before I slam you into the pavement." Pushing the giddy Piper ahead of him, Floyd stepped into a 50s style diner, hearing the jukebox belt out the King of Rock 'n' Roll. 

"Ooh!" Floyd watched as Hartley gazed around, taking in everything. "I've never seen anything like this in Central." Floyd smiled as Hartley roamed around, eyes sparkling, poking his nose into everything. 

"Welcome to the Ras' Diner, where we serve nothing but the freshest and tastiest food in all of Star City! Table for two?" 

A smiling, pretty waitress gazed upon him. "Yeah, two." Floyd smiled back at her. 

"Right this way! Got a nice cozy spot in the corner." Floyd followed her to what he had to agree was a very nice cozy spot indeed. "Is this to your liking?" Again, that infectious smile. 

"This is perfect. Thank you, Emily." Floyd grinned at how the waitress beamed at him. Knowing her name clearly put her into bliss-mode, not realizing he had only read her nametag. 

"Right, okay. Cool. I'll go get you your drinks." She turned to go, then twirled back. "Oh! What would you like to drink?" 

"Tea, please. Green if you have it. Two." 

"Right, two green tea, coming right up!" She scurried off. A moment later, nearly tripping over Hartley in her haste to get back to the table, Emily dropped a menu on the table and scampered off again as the cook, or boss, growled at her. 

"She seems delightful," Hartley grinned. 

"Quite," Floyd agreed, settling into the booth while Hartley sat across from him. Opening the menu, he scanned the options. "Any thoughts?" 

"Mmm," Floyd kicked him. "Oh, right, uh ..." Hartley skimmed the menu. "Double cheese with the super basket of fries between us?" 

"Sounds good." Right that moment, Emily the waitress returned with their tea and take their orders. When she scampered off again, Floyd took a moment to gather his thoughts. 

"You'll be late tonight." Leave it to Hartley to get right to the point. 

"Yeah." He sighed, really not wanting to go out. 

"I can go with you, watch your back." Floyd flinched at that offer. Last thing he needed was for this innocent kid to get mixed up in that kind of business. 

"Really, I can sense others, and get a feel for their intentions. That's information that can get you back home again." 

Huh? What's he trying to say? "Rath, I appreciate the offer but I can't take you with me. I refuse to put you in a dangerous situation. You could get hurt, or worse." 

"If you don't come back to me, that'll be worse than death, especially when I know damn well I could have made absolute certain you came back." The cups of tea rattled as Hartley slammed a fist into the table, startling Floyd. 

During the tense silence, Emily returned with their burgers and fries, quietly retreating. 

"Floyd," Hartley began. 

"Rath," Floyd interrupted. "What exactly do you mean when you say you can sense others?" 

"Oh, uh, how to explain ... " Hartley paused to collect his thoughts, chewing on a fry. "Kit calls me an Empath." 

Oh, that explains everything. Floyd sighed. "You're gonna hafta spell it out for me, kid. Were you affected by that particle explosion?" 

Hartley smiled, shaking his head. "Nope, I'm a natural Empath, honed my skills over the years. Best way to explain is that I run on emotions, feelings, intention, rather than words. I have enhanced hearing, sharp vision, so it's easy to pick up on the smallest of detail that most people miss." He paused, chewing thoughtfully. 

"Many times when I was kid, others would tell me something and do the opposite. Their actions were contrary to their words. I got hurt a lot, ended up in too many bad situations." He shuddered at some memories of being held down in back alleys. "Len got me to focus more on the actions, the intentions, and ignore the words. Over time, my sense of others grew stronger as I was able to pick them out by their emotions, intentions. It's like being able to see a person's aura if one focused hard enough, but on a deeper level. Without even looking at your gorgeous face, I can tell you're feeling anxious, worried, protective, stubborn. That tells me you can't stand the thought of my getting hurt. I feel each of your fears for me as they are foremost on your mind, and you don't even realize how strongly you're projecting those feelings. I can pick up on all of that." 

Huh, very interesting. Floyd always knew Hartley was special, the kind of special that claimed his heart, but hadn't realized how extra special the kid was. 

"As for sensing others, like I said, I can feel their emotions, feelings, intentions. The stronger, more intense they're feeling, the easier it is to pick them out." Placing some fries on the table, Hartley moved them into position. "Say you're right here, facing straight ahead. I'm right there with you, facing the same direction." He positioned three fries behind them. "What you can't see are the three coming up behind us as you're focused on the big bad burger over here. Even though I'm also contemplating devouring the Big Cheese, my senses go on alert as I feel the dangerous auras coming behind us, the intent to kill very strong. That gives us the edge we need to avoid their bullets and gain the upper hand." Snatching up the big bad burger, Hartley proceeded with his own intention, devouring the Big Cheese. 

"So you're like some kind of Jedi?" 

Hartley nearly choked as he started laughing. "Close, but not quite. Man, now I want a lightsaber." 

Swallowing, he continued. "Mick calls me a Bard. One who makes use of tunes and tone of voice to capture an audience. Since I can feel what you're feeling, I have the power to change what you're feeling, enhance it, dampen it, redirect the feelings elsewhere. If you're angry, for example, I can dampen that anger or redirect your anger from that poor french fry over to the second big bad burger. Also, if you're feeling blissful, I can enhance that into pure ecstasy. Nightmares? I can nudge them away providing you with happier dreams." 

Floyd didn't quite know what to think. The first thought that come to mind ... 

"Nope, not once." Hartley interrupted his thought and smiled at his confusion. "That was a strong thought, I picked up on it. Well, more like the fear, curiosity, confusion. I knew what you were gonna say. To answer, nope, never once did I manipulate you last night, or this morning. Although, if anything, sometimes I can't control my projections in extreme situations, so you may have felt my, uh, heat during those moments, which would only have increased your, um, output." 

"But you can control your projections, can easily manipulate if you so desire." 

"Yes, very much so. I usually only project to de-escalate a situation, or help my friends get a good night's sleep, ease their worries and anxieties. I rarely ever have the need to actually manipulate a person, not unless another's life was on the line." Another shudder, at another memory. "Anyway, I seem to be best at mental and emotional healing. I like helping my friends, keeping them sane, enabling them to come back home. That's the best part." 

Floyd saw the pure, yet sad, smile on Hartley's face, curious to know all that he's seen over the years, wanting to know all his experiences. He tightened a fist at the thought of others hurting Hartley. 

"Oh, for the record," Hartley interrupted his thoughts. "There are four guys outside near your bike, seems like one of them is itching to talk to you." 

Floyd snapped his head up, looking out the window behind Hartley. Sure enough, one guy is sitting on his bike, two of them talking, the fourth one glancing at his watch, scowling. Glancing at his own watch, Floyd noticed it was just after 1:00. 

"Wait here." He stood up, Hartley grasping his arm. 

Speaking low, Hartley spoke with a bit of fear in his voice. "Be careful. The itchy one has a hidden piece, not exactly sure what. The other two have something long and slender hidden somewhere on them. The one on your bike, he has a funny leg." 

Floyd nodded, wondering what a "funny leg" meant. Stepping away, he headed out to meet them. 

"Bout time you showed up! Where the hell you've been?" The itchy one growled. 

"Lunch, was hungry. That's my bike there." Floyd nodded at his bike. One of the two standing, laughed. 

"Damnit, didn't Francis give you the message?" 

Floyd kept his gaze on Itchy. "He stopped by, seemed disappointed in the fact that I don't have much of a life, he nosed around my apartment, then left." He shrugged. "Din't get no message." 

Itchy approached him, Floyd held his ground. Itchy reached inside his jacket for the gun he kept hidden and started to pull it out. Itchy's eyes grew wide as the gun was suddenly ripped out of his grasp and tossed away, back toward the diner. He didn't even see Floyd move. 

Floyd relaxed his grip on the short sword he kept along his lower back. It was so tiny his jacket covered it nicely. Many hours of practice over the past couple of years enabled him to have lightning quick reflexes. Rarely anyone ever got to see him strike. 

"Might want to give me the message then before your two boys there take another step?" 

Itchy fumed and cursed, lunged at Floyd. He sighed, neatly stepping out of the way, slamming a fist to Itchy's back, knocking him to the pavement. 

"Fine, either of you guys want to give me the message?" 

The one in the brown shirt charged at him, pulling out a long, stick? Sidestepping, grabbing the stick, Floyd pulled and flung the guy down to the ground. The other guy pulled out his own stick and managed a backhand slap to Floyd's thigh that ... "Argh!!" 

Floyd stumbled, not expecting that jolt. He swung his stick at the guy who deflected it neatly and twisted out of the way, landing another jolt to Floyd's back. That brought him to his knees. 

A piercing sound blasted through, freezing the guy with the jolt stick. The one on the bike winced, covering his ears. Floyd heard a thud behind him as Hartley kicked the guy in the brown shirt. He watched as his friend approached the one with the jolt stick. 

"I'll be taking that." He spoke so calmly, so deadly, as he turned off the power to the jolt stick, collapsed it, placing it into a pocket. 

Floyd faltered but managed to regain his feet. "Rath," he immediately cut himself off, noticing the tiny hand signal. Silently, he watched on as he witnessed this new side of his beloved. 

\----------------------------------------------

Pocketing the jolt stick, Hartley captured the other's eyes, holding him still. He spoke low, deadly, willing the other to speak true. "Message." 

It was the one on the bike with the funny leg that spoke. "Job's at 2:00, down at the docks, pier 32." 

A dagger appeared in Hartley's hand as he backhanded the one before him, leaving a large gash in his side. He stepped over to the funny leg guy. 

"Hey, man. That's the whole message. We were sent to follow 'Shot, make sure he knows this is his last chance. Boss' orders." 

A gunshot filled the air, clanging into the guy's leg. Well, that explains the funny leg. Looking back over his shoulder, Hartley saw Floyd frantically looking around for the shooter. Another shot and the guy fell off the bike, the bullet landing behind his ear. 

Humming, he turned away as a bullet altered its trajectory, slamming into the pavement at his feet. Grabbing Floyd, he dashed back to the diner, more bullets just barely missing him. Ducking inside, Hartley exhaled. 

"Damn, why send a shooter to shoot the guy who's supposed to do a shooting?" He headed back to their table, slumping down, tackling the rest of the fries. 

"You okay?" Hartley glanced up at Floyd who was still standing, not quite understanding the bewildered look. 

\----------------------------------------------

Not understanding what happened one single bit, Floyd slumped down in the booth. For a minute there, he thought Hartley was going to kill all of them. Wait ... job? 

Floyd jumped up, looking at his watch. 1:45. "Damnit, I only got 15 minutes to get down there." Glancing out the window, he sees his bike empty, everyone had gone. Tossing a couple of twenties on the table, he dashed to the door. "Get Oliver down there," he called back to Hartley. 

Revving up his bike, Floyd shot down the road towards the docks. Damnit, he's not even fully equipped for this; his primary customized sniper rifle having been left at home. Fuming, with only a couple minutes to spare, he glanced around quickly and got himself into position. 

Barely in time, his target, one Jack Bellian, came into view glancing at his watch. From what he understood, he crossed the boss over some property damage in Keystone. Basically, they lost an entire warehouse of heavily customized artillery. 

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he shifted his mini-sniper as Bellian moved. Not the one to use for a job like this but it was the only rifle he had on him as it folds up nicely into a case attached to the back of his jacket on the inside. He had it with him because today was supposed to be a relaxing day with Hartley and he always made it a habit to never leave home without protection. 

Floyd snickered at that thought, amused. 

Yes, he left most of his gear home, the heavy artillery, but he was by no means defenseless. Boots always have their knives, a couple of daggers inside his sleeves, a short sword sheathed across his lower back, two inside pockets were filled with shuriken. He didn't think he would be needing a firearm today but had chosen to bring the mini-sniper just in case. 

Now here he was, resting his elbows on the wall of the roof, steadying his aim. Finger on the trigger, he watched as Bellian lifted his head and turned toward someone ... Floyd balked. What the hell was Francis doing here? 

He watched for a minute before hearing a scream off to the side. 

\----------------------------------------------

Three targets, as he had guessed earlier. Each one on a different rooftop, all aiming at Floyd. He's got to take them out quickly; Floyd isn't aware they are there. 

Plucking the hand-crossbow from an inside pocket, Hartley scowled at how small the damn thing was. Can this thing even shoot far enough? Gauging the distance, he figures he can reach the two closest ones; the one on the left that's closest to him and the one straight ahead above Floyd. The one on the far right is just a little too far ... unless ... 

Hartley took a moment to check on Oliver's position. Very close by, just on the next roof, keeping an eye on the two below them. Hartley doesn't recognize the target that Floyd was assigned to kill, but he certainly knew his cousin, Francis, standing next to him. His stomach churned just seeing Francis again. Such a vile, disgusting, thing. 

Grounding himself, he takes a deep breath, slowly exhaling as he let all sight and sound fade away. Only those three targets matter. Focusing on the one closest to him, he scanned the distance, tested the wind. 

Humming softly, he raised the hand-crossbow and took aim, putting intense thought into the shot, willing the bolt to fly true. Time seemed to slow down, his target seemed to come closer; Hartley could see the finger tightening on the assailant's own trigger. He fired his bolt. 

Before the bolt could reach the first guy, Hartley snapped his aim to the one above Floyd, and fired again, still humming, willing the bolt to fly true. He barely registered as both bolts struck home, as he dashed and hopped over to the next building, snagging the bow out of Oliver's hands, nocked an arrow, and watched it fly, thudding into the chest of the third guy, toppling him down to the ground below. 

He didn't hear Oliver's comment, or registered his shock; Hartley bounded quickly over to where Floyd sat quivering, leaning up against the small wall of the roof. Hartley quickly saw the bolt that grazed his arm, landing solidly into the stone. Damnit, the one right above here must have managed to get a shot off. 

"Floyd, look at me." Hartley grasped his shoulders, giving him a small shake to get his attention. "Floyd!" He saw the grey eyes slowly focus on him. Pulling the bolt out of the wall, he felt Floyd wince. He gently rubbed at the tear in his sleeve, whistling softly, relieving Floyd of the pain. Luckily the bolt had only grazed him. 

Full recognition arrived in his eyes, Hartley watched as Floyd pressed back into the stone, as he took in what had just happened, panic rising. Hartley winced, the fear strong, he felt it all. 

"Shh, easy Floyd, it's just me. You're okay." He spoke softly, gently rubbing his hands along Floyd's arms. "They're gone, just you and me here, nobody else." He put every ounce of calm into his words, projecting them straight to his beloved's core. 

\----------------------------------------------

Recognizing Hartley's green-clad body hovering above him, Floyd felt the panic rise from his gut. Not from Hartley, but from the situation. He tried to clamp it down, keep the fear out of his eyes but the memory kept a strong hold of him. 

Floyd was tasked with the assassination of Jack Bellian who had been causing trouble for the boss. That was supposed to have gone down last night but with Hartley's arrival, well, Bellian became a lucky guy to see another day, while Floyd himself was busy being lucky in other ways. 

Floyd was going to do the job tonight, his cousin Francis seemed okay with that. However, timeframe got moved up to this afternoon. He was in position, waiting for Bellian to emerge from his "office". Finger on the trigger, Floyd balked when he saw Francis appear next to Bellian. He was completely focused on the pair that he failed to notice the three behind him, higher up. Floyd had snapped his head around, half turning, as he heard a scream and one of the guys falling down off his rooftop. At the same instant he felt a sharp burn slash his arm causing him to fall down, pinning him to the stone wall. That was followed by another scream from right above him which he barely heard as the shock took him. 

Now he was feeling Hartley running his hands over his body, talking softly. Floyd couldn't understand the words at first but slowly they began registering. He also felt the panic diminishing, and the pain in his arm receded. He found he could lift the arm again, no longer pinned. Raising it, weakly, he accidently grazed his hand to unlatch the side of Hartley's shirt, letting a corner fall away, as he made to grip the fabric tightly, pulling him in. 

Kissing deeply, Floyd felt the last of the panic disappear, strength filling him, the events being pushed to the back of his mind as his need to consume his Piper took over. 

Needing some air, he released his boy but not fully. Hartley still hovered above him, resting his forehead on his own, breathing softly. Floyd relaxed in the heat, licking the side of Hartley's lips while his hand rubbed along the exposed skin of his chest. 

"Feeling better?" A tender smile, sweet tone to the words. 

"Mmm," was his only response as he kissed him again. 

Moments later, Hartley pulled up, sitting back on his heels. Floyd saw the frown form as Hartley cupped the side of his face, gently stroking. He wasn't sure what was on Hartley's mind but he felt the wariness, the concern, the fear beginning to radiate from him. 

"What is it?" Floyd held his hand, rubbing his thumb along the back. "What's wrong?" 

Floyd wasn't expecting such an emotional outburst. He saw tears well up in Hartley's eyes, felt the anguish explode out of him, heard his wails as he fell on top of Floyd, clutching for dear life. Floyd held him close, rubbing his back, speaking soft words, letting him know he was there. It was a few minutes before Hartley calmed down, his body shuddering as the last of the emotional pains were released. 

"Shh, li'l mouse, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." Floyd nuzzled deep into Hartley's neck, partially hidden by the hood that clumped there as he fell forward. 

At a noise, Floyd opened an eye that wasn't hidden by the hood, and saw Oliver pull a pointed bolt out of the guy that had fallen behind him. Oliver then stabbed one of his own arrows into the wound to make it seem like it was him that took the guy out, and not whoever shot the bolt. Oliver then tossed the guy over the side to the ground below, and dropped two bloody bolts next to Floyd, before hopping over the side himself. 

\----------------------------------------------

Captain Quentin Lance of the SCPD had arrived on the scene, barking orders to his crew to pack up the three dead bodies and take Francis and Jack into custody. Oliver has known him for years and is quite relieved to find Quentin taking charge of the scene. 

"That's all of them, Captain," Oliver watched as the men were taken away. 

"You sure?" Quentin turned, scowling, causing the Green Arrow to flinch. "Are you absolutely certain that's all of them? Maybe for today, maybe this is all of them, but I know and you know that there are a lot more of these bastards out there, out here, who knows where they're hiding." Oliver hadn't seen the Captain this furious before. 

Quentin continued. "We've been after these bastards for far too long. Mighty glad to finally get Francis but I need his boss, the boss." 

Oliver said nothing, watching as Quentin turned his gaze upwards, likely trying to catch anyone else that might be hiding up there. "Maybe I should send a few guys up there, take a look around." 

Quentin looked like he was going to do just that but Oliver stopped him. "I can assure you there's nobody else up there. I swept the area. No more bad guys." 

Oliver held his breath as Quentin looked up again. Raising his own eyes upward, he saw the green from Hartley's hood as it dipped down out of sight. "See? Nothing up there, Captain." 

"Captain! We're ready to go!" One of his men caught Quentin's attention. 

"Fine, I'll trust you, THIS time." With that, Quentin Lance turned away toward his car. Oliver smiled, relief flooding him, as he headed off in the opposite direction. 

\----------------------------------------------

The words tumbled out. 

"Nearly lost you, I told you to watch your back but those guys were damn good and one even got a shot off and if you hadn't had turned the way you did then you coulda been bleeding out right now ... " 

"Shhh, relax, li'l one. I can't be taken out that easily, it's how I managed to survive all these years." Floyd had to admit, he was damn grateful Hartley was there, even more happy that Hartley entered his world. 

"I know, I know," Hartley still sniffled a bit. "I just can't bear the thought of losing you, not when I just found you." 

Floyd held on tight, possessively, as he felt the same way for the kid, his very own Hartley Rathaway. He nibbled an earlobe to capture his attention. 

"Mmm," Floyd felt Hartley relax instantly, the nightmarish event dissipating as his fingers fondled a nipple, hardened by the cool air. 

He nudged Hartley upward. "How's about we get up? It's not exactly summer yet and the stone roof is sending chills through me." Floyd started to push himself up but stumbled. Hartley caught him, helped him the rest of the way and just held him. 

Looking down below, Floyd saw that everyone had gone. Glancing at his watch, it was just after 3:00. "Hmm, still plenty of the day left." Leaning down, he bit the exposed hardened nipple, causing Hartley to let out his name-sake squeak. "Alright, let's get out of here. Don't want any more of those guys to show up." Relatching the fallen fabric, he smoothed out Hartley's coat, receiving another deep, lingering kiss for his attentiveness. 

Reaching down, Floyd grabbed the two bolts and deposited them into one of Hartley's many pockets. "Can't have the cops finding these. Knowing Quentin, he's likely to have every member of the police department roaming around up here." 

Hartley giggled, which relieved him. He hated seeing the kid in pain. 

Together they headed off, dearly hoping his bike was where he left it. 

\----------------------------------------------

"There we go, all nicely bandaged. Just don't expect me to perform miracles on your jacket sleeve. I may be decent at stitching up some things," he giggled, "but the jacket is far beyond my ability." 

Floyd flexed his arm, feeling the bandage. Felt pretty good, the kid's a natural fixing people up, in more ways than one. Floyd smiled at the thought of Hartley having many talents, and eager to find out what other talents he may find himself subjected to. 

"I know someone who can fix the jacket." Floyd writes down a note, leaving it on the table next to the jacket. 

Straightening up, he felt arms around his waist, pulling him back up against Hartley. Normally Floyd preferred to be the one pulling Hartley and making him emit a wide array of sounds, but after the day they've had so far, he admittedly doesn't mind being held by the other. Hartley is soft, caring, trustworthy; Floyd felt whole being in his arms. 

Speaking of sounds, Floyd realized Hartley was speaking to him. "Um, what?" 

That giggle again. "Honestly, if you're going to keep spacing out like that, I had better stay to make sure you don't trip, walk into a door, fall down the stairs, get run over by a herd of wildebeests ... " 

Floyd instantly shuddered at the memory from earlier in the day. Hartley tightened his grip. 

"Aww, can't have you chilled now. Still, it's only 5:30, we got the whole evening now to get you warmed up." Hartley nuzzled his neck, lightly nipping his own earlobe as he had done to Hartley many times. 

"Mmm, that's right. No more job tonight." Floyd sighed, contently. Relieved. 

"No more job, ever." He felt a roaming hand grip him, a thumb started popping out the loose stitches. "Must be nice, though." 

Mmm, very nice, as Floyd felt himself harden, then realized what Hartley had said. "No job." 

Hartley must have felt him tense as he found his head turned toward his, felt those warm lips on his. A nip on the nose, Hartley replied, "Yup. Seems like this whole 'job' today was to set you up. No more boss, no more jobs. You're free to do whatever you want, whenever you want." 

Floyd let all that sink in. He was in with those guys for years, Francis having brought him in. He thought he'd be with them forever, using his skills to eliminate targets at their whim. What Hartley said buzzed through his very core. He really is free now. He can do whatever he wants ... do whoever he wants. 

With that last thought, Floyd twisted out of Hartley's embrace and the vigorous rubbing. Turning on him, Floyd pounced, landing them both to the floor as he unlatched Hartley's buckle. Within moments, he had the pants pulled down just enough and buried himself to the hilt. Soon he had his little mouse making the most lovely of sounds. 

\----------------------------------------------

Finishing the meal, pushing the plate aside, Hartley sat back, feeling full and happy. The cozy booth provided the comfort he needed after a good meal. The foot rubbing along his inner thigh helped as well. 

The clock in the restaurant read 9:30. After they had cleaned themselves up, Floyd in a different pair of pants and jacket, they were quite hungry. Floyd had taken them to this upscale restaurant that played soft, classical music. They were seated in a quiet area, this not being one of their busier nights. 

He squeaked as the boot pressed right into his crotch. Reaching down, Hartley gripped the boot, rubbing his hand around it, tenderly, wishing it was something else. He felt it drop away as the server came over. 

"Will there be anything else tonight?" he glanced at the two of them. Hartley noticed he was trying to hide a smile, seeing the sparkle in the server's eyes. Crap, he must have seen Floyd's little foot play. 

Hartley smiled up at the server. "I think we're good, for now. Floyd?" 

Floyd grinned that devilish grin. "Yes, everything was most excellent tonight. I do believe it's time to head off to our next destination." Floyd had said that last bit ever so sweetly, it's no wonder Hartley noticed the red cheeks of the server. 

"Very well, then. You may make your payment at the door and let me be the one to say that it was a real pleasure to have you here tonight. I do hope you'll return again soon." With that, he turned to leave. 

Hartley heard Floyd's soft comment, "I'm sure you do," unsure if the server actually heard but the slight falter in his step suggested otherwise. Hartley giggled, standing up. 

"Seriously, Floyd. That was a really good meal. This place is fantastic! The music, the atmosphere, it's very cozy here, relaxing." Reaching for his coat, he felt Floyd rub his crotch. Nobody noticed as they were facing the opposite direction. 

"Mmm, maybe next time we can give server Kyle a bit more of a show." Hartley shuddered at that, laughingly pushing Floyd away so he can put his coat on. 

He followed Floyd's tight pants as they made their way to the cashier lady, paid, and exited out into the cool air. 

Pulling his coat closed, latching a couple of hooks, he shuddered. "I keep forgetting how much cooler it is here than in Central. Seriously, we're on the west coast here but it's so much further north that it's downright chilly." 

"Mmm, it's not that bad," Floyd glanced around at the near empty parking lot. "Central, if you ask me, is a little too hot at times." He said that last bit so low that only Hartley's ears could pick up on its intent. Hartley could only grin as they reached Floyd's bike. 

Looking around, Hartley couldn't believe Floyd had taken them to the Ritz Fantino in the nicest part of Star City, sitting along a portion of the river surrounded by such greenery. Such a beautiful spot. He inhaled the crisp night air full of the new scent of the trees beginning to sprout their leaves. 

Suddenly feeling bold, he turned toward Floyd but wasn't quite fast enough as his sniper had ideas of his own. 

\----------------------------------------------

Feeling satisfied that nobody was around to watch, Floyd turned toward Hartley and caught his coat, pulling him in. He kissed deeply, catching the other off-guard. 

Pulling back, Floyd smirked at the heat in Hartley's cheeks. Leaning close, nipping along his neck, he spoke low and deep, in the tone reserved only for his little mouse. "Time to get you warmed up." He bit the ever-sensitive earlobe and felt Hartley rest his hands behind him on the bike for support. Floyd's back was to the restaurant so if anyone decided to exit, all they would see are two guys just standing around talking ... maybe. 

Floyd unclasped the coat and felt the chilled shudder. He leaned in again and ran his lips along Hartley's throat as he unlatched the upper corner of his shirt. The nipple hardened instantly in the cold air, causing a gasp. 

"You really can't take the cold, can you? Or maybe you can," Floyd let out his evil laugh as he ran a tongue down the throat, chest and over to the exposed nipple, biting lightly. The resulting squeak pleased him. 

"Floyd," Hartley panted. 

"Shh, I'm busy." Lowering his other hand, Floyd unlatched the lower corner, letting the fabric of the shirt fall away to the side, exposing the entire chest and, as expected, the other hardened nipple. He ignored it, and continued downwards, pushing his hand past the waistband. 

Stepping slightly to the side, so his actions would be clearly visible to anyone who happened to look this way, Floyd rubbed vigorously, frequently gliding over the head with his thumb, all the while abusing that first nipple with his mouth, tongue, lips and teeth. He felt the chest heat up quickly. 

Stroking his tongue back up, he whispered in Hartley's ear. "Mmm, doesn't take long to warm you up." 

"Floyyyd," Hartley spoke low, desperate but Floyd just captured his mouth, earning a groan and a shuddering pulse. 

Releasing him, Floyd trailed his sticky fingers up the exposed skin, giving intense attention to both nipples, then thrusted his fingers into the panting mouth. 

"So hungry even after the meal we just had." Floyd giggled. 

"Gonna ... kill ... you ... " Floyd laughed at the barely audible words. Pulling his fingers out, he lightly licked Hartley's lips. 

"Time to go, li'l one." 

Reaching inside the seats for their helmets, Floyd glanced over his shoulder and saw a shadowy figure hovering near the back door. He grinned, pleased that server Kyle got his show. 

\----------------------------------------------

Wrapping his arms around Floyd as they exited the parking lot, Hartley couldn't help but feeling wound up. 

What a crazy day full of public displays of affection and bad guys trying to kill them. So many intense emotions in the run of a single day. He felt himself harden again. Time spent with Floyd is certainly interesting, never a dull moment. He loved every moment of it! Except for nearly getting killed of course. 

Pressing closer, letting Floyd feel his hardness, he lowered one of his hands to the other's zipper. When they were stopped at a red light, he quickly lowered the zipper and thrusted his hand inside, once again catching bare flesh. He heard Floyd's gasp above the roar of the motorcycle as the light turned green. Going around a curve in the road, Hartley pulled him out completely, watching as the vibrations from the bike hardened him completely. He rested his hand back up around the waist, holding tightly, grinning devilishly. 

After ten minutes, Hartley wondered where they were going as they didn't seem to be heading in the direction of home. Glancing down, he watched the exposed flesh bouncing on the motorbike, a tiny stream coming forth. Stopping at another red light, Hartley reached down and gave a squeeze, feeling Floyd's body tense and shudder as he exploded. 

A car beeped behind them; they hadn't noticed the light changed. Hartley laughed as they continued onwards. 

After awhile, Hartley realized that there was no destination. Floyd was driving around scenic areas which pleased Hartley immensely. They weren't even going very fast, just slowly coasting along beneath the blooming trees. The air really smelled great, relaxing him fully. 

Another red light, but this time no other vehicles were around as the light turned green. Idling there, Floyd leaned back into him, catching his arms, wiggling slightly as Hartley felt himself nestling between the cheeks. Since Hartley's pants were only light, loose fabric, his hard-on was clearly visible and snuggled nicely against Floyd's tight crack. This also meant that when Floyd leaned forward again to set the bike in motion, Hartley was pressed into the vibrating machine. He groaned loudly as he thumped his helmet into the back of Floyd's shoulder. 

\----------------------------------------------

Just before midnight, Floyd pulled into their own parking lot, shutting the bike off and removing his helmet. Looking over his shoulder, he grinned at Hartley's half-closed eyes, hearing his ragged breath. He also felt slender fingers trying to claw their way through Floyd's jacket. 

He grinned, slowly extracting a hand, raising it to his lips as he sucked on those delicious fingers. He heard Hartley exhale slowly. 

Standing, Floyd immediately winced at the cool air on him. He started to tuck himself back in but Hartley grabbed his wrist and pulled him close into a heated kiss. 

Glancing down at the bike, Floyd pulled his head back. "Hmm, you soaked up my bike." 

"Fuck you," Hartley growled softly, which, to Floyd's amusement, caused him to harden right up again and the kid took full advantage of that fact. 

Floyd let Hartley have his way, emitting whimpers and gasps as he felt himself stroked slowly, then roughly, soon to be followed by a moist tongue. Within moments, Floyd pulsated as another orgasm hit him. 

"Damn," he gasped out, unable to say anything else as Hartley pressed his mouth on his, letting Floyd taste some of his own release. He felt himself twitch again. 

Pushing Hartley away, he tucked himself in. "Fuck, kid, the things you do to me." He heard that giggle as he felt Hartley nuzzle against the back of his neck. 

"Think that was the sixth of the day?" Hartley licked his ear and attempted to grope him again but Floyd stepped away. 

"Way more than what I'm usually capable of." Heading toward the building, Floyd felt exhausted, but very satisfied. 

\----------------------------------------------

Shedding his clothing, Hartley heard a buzzing. Retrieving his cell phone, he saw Mick's message: 

<< home ... now >>

He tensed, wondering what happened. Mick isn't one for words but Hartley always knew how his friend was feeling. 

He texted back. << What happened? >>

Hartley squeaked as a damp finger entered him. Mick's reply was a grumpy emoji. 

<< Fine, I'll leave in the morning. Last train left a li'l over 2 hrs ago. >>

A wet body plastered against his back. 

"Aww, li'l mousie gotta scurry on home?" 

Hartley sighed. Damn that Mick. "Yeah. Mick wouldn't have messaged if there wasn't something going on." Whatever it is, it had better not be because he's out of beer again. He leaned back into Floyd's freshly showered body. 

"Mmm," was all Floyd said as he pistoned himself inside. A few thrusts and Hartley felt himself filled up again. He clamped his ass shut as Floyd pulled out. 

"That's seven." Hartley grinned at him. 

"Actually, li'l mouse, that was one." Floyd nuzzled just below his ear. 

"Oh? How you figure that?" Hartley gasped as his earlobe was tormented, again. 

"It's after midnight. Technically, it's a new day." He squeaked as Floyd squeezed his head, causing the start of an orgasm but the hand fell away quickly, denying him that release. 

"Fucking asshole," he growled, causing Floyd to laugh. 

"Shower. Got an early morning." Hartley felt himself being shoved toward the bathroom. 

Growling softly, he couldn't help but feel such complete devotion toward his guardian angel. Floyd had shown Hartley nothing but softness, gentleness, tenderness .... okay, maybe those weren't the exact words but those were the feelings he felt at their purest form while Floyd roughed him up throughout the day. Floyd took care of him, extremely well, and allowed Hartley to take care of him in return. 

Minutes later, freshly cleaned, Hartley fell on the bed, feeling Floyd curl up around him, the sniper's favourite position. Hartley soon fell into blissful sleep. 

\----------------------------------------------

Early the next morning as the 6:00 train arrived at the station, Hartley was saying his farewells to Oliver and Felicity. After only a few short days, he beamed at how close they've become. Turning away, he overheard Oliver's whisper to Felicity, "Did his bag get fuller? That zipper can barely close." 

Smiling at the accuracy of that statement, shifting the bag he had slung over the shoulder, he approached the train, only to be met with warm lips upon his. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the scent, wanting to remember every inch of Floyd. Who knows when they'll see each other again. 

Capturing his tongue, Hartley sucked, pulling Floyd closer. He felt a groping hand descending past his waistband. "Floyd," he gasped out. 

"Shhh, li'l mouse, don't want to catch the attention of anyone down here, hmm? Or maybe you do." A devilish grin, Hartley squeaked as Floyd squeezed him. Breathing in his ear, he continued, huskily, "Have I ever told you that you make the most wonderful sounds?" 

Hartley felt the heat rise to his cheeks, then heard a click, one that only his ears could pick up amongst all the noise of the train station. "Floyd?" He puzzled, looking into his sniper's eyes. 

"Shhh, train's about to leave." Hartley felt his hand removed, fingers raised to his lips. He sucked on them then nearly choked them down as he felt the low pulsing at his base. He heard Floyd's evil laugh. 

"Remember, I know exactly how long it takes for this train to get to Central City. Once you're there, you give me a call," Floyd revealed an app on his cell phone, "and I'll press this button to stop the vibrations, if I feel like it." 

"Floyyyyd..." Hartley whimpered, feeling himself getting hard, fast. 

"Be a good little mouse and I may even press this other button to release the band." 

The loudspeaker came on. "Last call for Central City, departing in 5, 4, 3 ... " 

"Bye now!" Floyd dashed away, leaving Hartley flustered. With a second to spare, he sprinted on to the train, right before the door closed. Gasping for air, he slumped onto a seat, soon realizing that the entire ride will prove excruciating. Damnit, why do trains have to rattle along tracks?! 

The train to Central City zipped down the tracks; Hartley very much struggling to keep quiet when only ten minutes had passed. During the six-hour ride back, Hartley didn't pay any attention to the other passengers, nor the news broadcast stating that Francis Lawton had broken out of police custody last night. He was far too busy becoming fluent in a wide variety of curses in various languages. He couldn't wait to get Floyd back in his grasp again; oh, he'll make him pay for this. Dearly. 

\----------------------------------------------

\-- Central City -- 

"So then, what was the best part of your visit to Star City, hmm?" Hartley's skin tingled at the way Floyd asked that question so seductively. He could just imagine those words, damp in his ear. Instead, he was left with the Bluetooth earpiece while his cell phone remained in his pocket, as per Floyd's request. 

The train had arrived on time, at 2:00 Central City time. Unable to handle another second, Hartley had called Floyd demanding him to turn the vibrating band off. Naturally, Floyd had laughed at the demand and instructed him to switch over to the Bluetooth earpiece. 

Also, naturally, Mick had sent over a text message just as he was about to place the cell phone in his pocket. He groaned at having to stop by the grocery store on the way home. 

Now here he was, roaming around the dairy section looking over the eggs, with Floyd tormenting his ear with his vile words ... those cursed words that kept his entire body tingling. 

"After what you've put me through, why should I stroke your ego with a response?" Placing a carton into the basket, he wandered down another aisle. 

"Mmm, why stroke my ego when you can stroke something much better? Who knows, maybe you're stroking yourself right now." That blasted low laugh full of evil intention. 

"Fine. The best part?" Selecting some pasta, he heard Floyd panting teasingly, anything to get a rise out of him. Well, Hartley can definitely give right back. "I'm a full-fledged Jedi, got my lightsaber in my pocket after all. Thank you for that," he purred softly, remembering his acquired jolt stick from outside the 50s diner. He wandered into another aisle. 

"I've a good mind to take that stick of yours and ram it up your hole, making you squeal relentlessly as I turn it on." Oh, such bristliness in his precious one's voice, such venom. Hartley laughed, receiving a couple of glares from nearby customers. Feeling the heat in his cheeks, he dashed over to the bakery section to scavenge bread. 

"Since it's my stick, how do you know I won't ram it up yours?" Being in a public place, Hartley was being careful with his wording. 

"Oh come now, I'm sure you can do better than that. Just remember, you're only at that grocery store because Mick sent you. If it weren't for him, you'd be home by now squirming on your bed, screaming at me to release the band. Instead, the pleasant sensations are being prolonged. I'm just along ... " a pause, " ... for the ride." Did Hartley hear him grunt? 

"Are you ... " 

"Am I what, li'l mouse?" Hartley totally heard that seductive purr. 

Not bothering to respond, he continued with the shopping. The store was filling up, seemed to be a lot more people around than when he first entered. Or maybe it only seems so due to the torture Floyd was putting him through. Better get out of here, fast. 

Standing in line, Hartley groaned. Only 3 check-outs are open and each one felt a mile long. He got in what seemed like the shortest line but the one currently at the cash was arguing about some sale prices that were actually on last week. 

"Something tickled your fancy? That was a nice groan, but I'm not worried as I know I can do a better job at making you groan and scream ... " 

Damn that Floyd. He shuddered as Floyd continued speaking menacingly, telling him all the ways he would make Hartley scream next time they got together. He felt himself twitch as Floyd explained in great detail how he would lick his crack and thrust his tongue deep inside. He bit his lip, preventing a curse, as the old lady in front of him glanced back, eyebrow raised. 

Hartley shook his head, "I'm fine, just remembered something I forgot." He didn't think the lady believed him as she turned away, moving up another step in the line. 

"Only fine, hmm? Well, maybe if you put your lovely hand down inside your pants and gave yourself a stroke, you might feel a little more than fine. Oh wait, with the way that band is attached, you won't be able to release. So sad." 

Hartley couldn't hold back that frustrated groan. He thumped the basket onto the counter a little harsher than he wanted, fumbling an apology at the startled cashier. 

Paying, and dashing outside, Hartley growled. "I am so gonna fucking kill you," 

"Temper, temper! Just remember who's holding your life in the palm of his hands. I'm gaining interest in deleting this app." 

Catching the transit, Hartley settled into a seat as the bus headed out towards STAR Labs. There's a stop out front; it would still be another ten minutes of walking before he got home. 

"You just can't seem to get out of public spaces, can you?" 

"Shut up." Hartley was met with a glare from another passenger. He ignored it, staring out the window. 

His entire body soon sweltered with anticipation, and need, as Floyd continued in explicit detail how he would drag out every possible sound from Hartley's body. He nearly missed his stop as he imagined those fingers down his throat, while the other set of fingers lay deep within, stroking his prostate. 

Dashing off the bus, he hurried down toward his apartment building. 

"Floyd," he groaned. 

"Yes, li'l mouse?" That blasted sweet purr. 

"When you get your fucking ass over here ... " 

"Hmm? Something you want to tell me?" Hartley heard him laugh. 

Speaking low, putting every ounce of threat into his tone, wondering if it'll leak through the earpiece, Hartley replied, "Soon as you get down here, I'm gonna ravage every inch of your body, leaving claw marks everywhere, abuse them nipples of yours. I'll leave you hanging, enraged, screaming for release for hours but I'm not gonna let you be satisfied. Y'know, there's a tree over here that'll be good to strap you to, it has this broken branch stump still attached to the trunk that is just perfect to press into your balls, causing you to squirm every time you try to get out of your bindings. Yes, that sounds good, mighty damn good." 

He heard Floyd gasp out and grunt as he would during a release. Hartley continued. "Mmm, you like the thought of that, don'tcha? Well then, if you want to experience all that my forest has to offer, get your cute ass over here and once I'm done with suckling over every inch of your body, then I'll ... " 

"Fuck you, Rath," came the heated growl. 

Hartley giggled. "Yes, you've done that many times!" Speaking lower, seductively, "I'm looking forward to feeling you inside me again." 

"I'll bet you are. I'm eagerly awaiting taking that soft ass of yours again, claiming you over and over. Bed is pretty empty without your naked body in it." 

"Yeah, my own bed will be nothing compared to yours." Hartley sighed. 

"Well, time to go. Got stuff to do. Love ya." 

Hartley startled at those words but couldn't respond fast enough before he heard Floyd disconnect the call. Reaching the top of the stairs, he heard a soft click as the band released him; he hadn't even noticed the vibrations had stopped. Thankfully he had his underwear on, preventing the band from falling down his leg to the floor. 

Kicking the door, he wonders when he'll get to see Floyd again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of The Empathetic Piper side story! Chapter 6 of the main story "A Tale of Two Young Kids in Central City" picks up right when Hartley arrives home.
> 
> This is not the end of Hartley / Floyd. Look forward to many more adventures between these two in the weeks to come!

**Author's Note:**

> That's it for Empathetic Piper! Two Chapters. More side stories to come with these two!


End file.
